


Down East Decisions

by FlyYouFools (MK47)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:11:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 138,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1361935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MK47/pseuds/FlyYouFools
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Massachusetts State Police Capt. Emma Swan leaves her red-hot career to become the police chief of sleepy Storybrooke, Maine. She's hoping for a less-complicated, less-dangerous life, a desire that is proven wrong on both counts. AU. No magic. Crime drama and romance. Swan Queen is endgame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AU, no magic, set in present day. I’ve aged Emma (and, therefore, Regina) up a bit to fit the story.

As far as hangovers went, Emma Swan had endured worse.

Her pounding head and achingly dry mouth were mitigated by the fact she woke up with her head pillowed against a young, firm and generously sized naked breast. Opening her other eye, she spied its twin, in equally lush condition.

“Good morning,” a silvery voice purred.

Emma tried to place it but couldn’t, her brain quickly registering the fact that she was naked, along with her bedmate, whose warm limbs wrapped her in a firm embrace. She shifted her legs slightly, her mind cataloging another tidbit: Emma and her acquaintance had enjoyed a thoroughly good time last night.

“Hey,” Emma groaned. She propped herself up onto an elbow to assess her companion.

“I’m not a hooker,” the young woman declared softly.

“What?” Emma’s training kicked in immediately as she appraised the woman. Young - very young - early ’20s, she surmised. Shoulder-length, jet-black hair, brown eyes, olive skin. Something ethnic. Light-skinned Hispanic? Biracial, for sure.

“Your friends, they didn’t pay me to sleep with you. They just paid for the dances. This…” she explained, waving a hand around the bed, “this was something I wanted. I dance, but I don’t trick.”

 _Ah._ The mention of a dance brought most of the evening back in a flash: her going-away party. The guys in the barracks had taken Emma out for one last swing around town to get her good and pissed before she left for her new job. There was dinner at the Capital Grille, but the real festivities began later in the back room at Duggan’s Tap. A $500 gift card to L.L. Bean (“More flannel, Swan!” Smitty roared), an Elmer Fudd-esque hunting hat and a series of lap dances from her new friend, which apparently progressed to a bed.

Friends and colleagues were shocked at Emma’s decision to leave the State Police. At 36, she was on a meteoric rise. Already a captain, those who liked to speculate were taking money she’d be running the entire agency within 10 years. She was any PR-obsessed politician’s dream: beautiful, female and gay – the perfect combination for the progressive state.

Long-accused of being an insular, crooked, lazy, patriarchal organization of glorified ticket writers on the Mass Pike, any governor would be able to roll out his well-spoken, college-educated, decorated officer and easily diffuse any charge of sexism or exclusion. How terrible could the State Police of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts be if it was under the direction of Colonel Emma Swan?

 _Colonel Emma Swan._ It certainly had a ring to it, and the title was one that the talented, ambitious trooper found endlessly alluring. Until, that is, Emma Swan realized she wanted more. In the end Emma wasn’t sure what it was that made a born-and-raised Boston girl suddenly yearn for a slower way of life. Maybe it was all her work with the gang unit, which depressed her beyond belief watching young life after young life ruined at best, ended at worst. Perhaps it was the drug trade, which was growing more deadly and dangerous each year. And the events of last April, well, they just went to prove that even her beloved city wasn’t immune to the insanity of the world.

Her friends urged her to hang on, only a few more years in the field – five, tops – after which she’d be promoted to a rank in which she would be behind a desk. But that wasn’t where Emma wanted to be, nor did she relish the fact that she was destined to be a token promotion. She was outstanding at her job and earned every accolade, but Emma knew she would never have been seen solely on her merits. There would always be some asshole who would think she got the stars on her shoulders because she was a woman - and a gay one, at that. Emma refused to hide her sexuality – if asked she would tell, without hesitation or shame. Yet neither did she parade it around. Even in the 21st century sadly she knew she faced an uphill battle - a woman in law enforcement. Because if someone was sexist, there’s a good chance they were homophobic, too.

“Oh, yeah, well, I wasn’t…I didn’t.” Emma stammered, unsure of how to proceed. “Where are we?” She looked around; it was obvious they were in a hotel room, but where?

“Holiday Inn, Somerville.”

“How did we get here?”

“The cops.”

“My guys? We didn’t get pulled over, right?” A touch of panic seeped into her voice. “Shit, did you let me drive?”

The brunette chuckled, slowly rolling on top of her nervous new friend, their naked bodies pressing against each other deliciously sternum to toe. “You’re even cuter when you’re not being so butch. No, baby, you didn’t drive. Although, I can’t imagine anyone could ever talk you out of something you set your mind to. One of your friends drove us: big, tall, black. Had the…” The dancer moved her hands over her head, mimicking the high-and-tight, nearly shaved crew cuts favored by cops. _Robert_.

“Yeah, he’s a friend.”

“You and I were having such a good time at The Tap, we decided to take the after-party here,” she husked, leaning down to capture Emma’s lips in a slow kiss. Her tongue snaked out, lazily stroking every millimeter of the blonde’s mouth.

“Mmmmm,” Emma hummed into the kiss, breaking away reluctantly. “What’s your name?”

“Madison.”

Emma grinned. “What’s your _real_ name?”

A pink flush tinted the young woman’s cheeks as she dropped her head in embarrassment. “Nicole.”

Placing her fingers under the woman’s chin Emma lifted her head to meet now-shy eyes.

“And how old are you, Nicole?”

“21.”

“License, please.”

The dancer rolled off Emma with a chuckle. “Wow, you really are a cop.” She hung one arm over the bed to reach for her purse, the other gently stroking the long planes of Emma’s abs. Emma halted the touching, and with an expectant look took the license when it was handed over. She was indeed 21. Phew.

“Do I pass?” Nicole teased, once again rolling onto Emma, this time sitting up, straddling her hips.

“Yeah. Sorry, can’t be too careful.”

“Do you have to be anywhere for a while?” The brunette leaned over, teasingly rubbing her sex against Emma’s while she traced the corded muscles of her neck with an insistent tongue. Sleek black hair felt like silk tickling Emma’s chest and shoulders.

She looked at the clock: 7:30 a.m. “I got time,” Emma smiled innocently. “Did you have something in mind?” She reached her hands up to thread them through the smooth black hair just within arm’s reach, only to have her progress stopped.

“So you’re really a cop?”

“ _Off-duty_.”

“Where?” Nicole kissed down Emma’s chest as the blonde’s fingers reached their destination, buried in the sleek locks. Emma moaned as she felt an eager, warm, wet mouth engulf her breast, teeth raking a nipple.

“Mmmm. Sta—” Emma began on instinct, then quickly corrected herself. “I’m the Chief of Police of Storybrooke, Maine.”

XXXX

Sunglasses on and headset in ear, Emma turned the key in the ignition of her canary-yellow 2010 Ford Mustang GT and heard the V8 roar to life. It was a ridiculous purchase – not her at all – but the muscle car had called to her when she saw it on the lot. It was a lone, fun purchase in a serious, thought-out, hard-working life. Why not? Thanks to road and Logan details she had plenty of money and only the condo mortgage to worry about. Plus, Emma considered it a service to her fellow troopers, nearly all of who drove a truck: They loved giving her shit about it. Even now, years later, she could barely look at it without hearing Donagan’s initial heckle: “Shit, they can see that fucker from space.”

Emma hit a button on the headset and stated “Dial Robert” as she backed out of the garage. Pulling out of her driveway for the last time, she stopped in the street for one final look. The condo was nice enough, but she learned early on in her life that she didn’t have the luxury or disposition for nostalgia or sentimentality. A home is a place to keep your stuff. Period.

Emma’s call connected to the sound of a deep baritone laughing knowingly as she headed toward Cambridge and the Mass Pike.

“Have a good night, Sleeping Beauty?”

“My morning was even better.”

“Jesus, girl. What I wouldn’t give for your talents.”

“What _your girlfriend_ wouldn’t give, you mean.” Emma unleased a dirty chuckle, pleased with her comeback.

“And not too hungover to be cocky, well done.”

Emma smiled, she was truly going to miss their easy banter. She didn’t let many people in her life, yet Robert made it past her natural defenses easily. “I believe I screwed all the alcohol out of my system this morning.”

She could hear her friend’s grin over the phone. “You know, I bet you’re gonna move to East Bumfuckbrooke or wherever the hell you’re headed and find a nice, gigantic lumberjill and settle down.”

Emma nearly spit out her coffee. She swallowed quickly, then recovered. “Uh, you know I like the more lady-looking ladies,” she noted, placing her travel mug in the holder and merging onto the Pike; she needed both hands to drive.

“Right, I forgot, you da man. Got it. You driving that banana of yours naaaaahth?” Robert asked, affecting the most grating Boston accent he could muster.

“Yes, I will be gracing New Hampshire, then Maine, with my beautiful vehicle. So fill me in on last night, or do I not want to know?”

“So dinner, then The Tap. We all drank way too much whiskey and your new friend…”

“Nicole,” Emma supplied.

“Thought it was M-something.”

“That was her stage name.”

“Ah, anyway, _Nicole_ came in, rode you like a cowboy and put you away wet, so to speak.”

“So to speak.”

Emma shifted into third as she flew east past Fenway Park, nodding a solemn farewell. _Go Sox._

“We didn’t get too crazy, did we?”

Robert snorted. “Nothing that you’d put on YouTube but nothing that would wreck your career.”

“That’s a larger-than-I’m-comfortable-with area.”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one giving her a throat culture. After a couple of dances, you started makin’ out and quickly retired to the ladies room. We didn’t see you for a good half-hour.”

Emma shook her head at the report; it meshed with bits and pieces of her memory, as well as an oddly bruised spot on her lower back. _Thank Christ I don’t have to work with those guys anymore._

“You came out grinnin’ like an idiot, then we bought you and your, um, friend some drinks. By last call, you guys wanted to continue your party, so I got you a room at the Hop-on-Inn, figured you didn’t want her at your old place.”

Emma exhaled. _Coulda been worse._ “Thanks, man. Yeah, definitely not at the condo. All I left unpacked was a sleeping bag and the mattress. The movers grabbed everything this morning bright and early. I’ll get you back for the room.”

“Fuck off, it’s a gift.”

“That’s so weird, I swear I read that exact phrase on a birthday card.”

“Your smart city mouth’s gonna be a big hit in the sticks.”

Robert laughed, but was sighing internally. He was really going to miss this woman. While state troopers didn’t have partners like traditional police, Robert and Emma often worked closely together, first out of H-5 in Brighton, then on specialized operations with the gang and drug units.

They had recently moved to emergency response, just in time to get thrown into the deep end of the marathon bombing. The pair were called into the initial insanity at the scene, then lived at the barracks for the next four days, hot-bunking with every officer in their troop – plus assorted feds - while everyone tried to figure out who bombed the finish line and why. Contrary to TV, the average officer rarely fires his gun in the line of duty, which is why Robert would never forget hiding behind a cruiser full of bullets in Watertown, Emma at his side, both of them emptying clip after clip at a runaway bomb-tossing car rampaging through Watertown. When the smoke cleared, they both looked at each other, shellshocked.

“This shit happens on TV,” Emma sputtered, as the sirens wailed and lights flashed signaling what looked like the beginning of World War III. Robert laughed; the situation was so absurd he couldn’t help it. “If the zombies show up,” he giggled, “we’re really fucked.”

He thought Emma was never quite the same after that week. Smiles came a little slower, laughs a little softer. Maybe that was why she took a job in the boondocks. He never shared his observations with a soul nor asked her. You didn’t have to know Emma Swan well to see that she wasn’t a person to spill her guts, even to one of her best friends. She suffered in silence. He wished she wouldn’t, but it wasn’t up to him. The woman was a classic loner and he worried she would find too much alone time in a tiny town on the coast of Maine.

“Hey, I am all-business on duty, you know that.” The trooper was snapped back from his reverie with Emma’s retort.

“That I do. Listen, I gotta fly. I’m on at 3 and I still smell like a three-day-old floater in July. Call me - I want to hear all about your adventures arresting drunken lobstermen and rescuing cats from pine trees.”

“I will. I’m keeping this number and not getting a landline, so you know how to reach me.”

“Oh, hey, Em! Hold up. I need to hear more about your fine new boss. Goddamn it. I saw that picture last night and woo!” Robert whistled low and slow. “I was gonna say I couldn’t imagine you moving all the way to friggin’ Maine to chase tail but, girl, I get it now. Be safe.”

Robert ended the call before a confused Emma could answer. _Huh?_ The blonde’s bewilderment was put on hold as she took the Pike through Boston, watching the skyline disappear in the rear-view mirror as she hit Route 1 north.

 _My boss? Oh…_ oh. Another flash from last night returned: She was sitting at a table with her colleagues – pre-Nicole - when Marty held up his phone triumphantly.

“Swan! I know why you’re going to the middle of the mother-fucking-nowhere!”

“Hey!” Rivera snapped in Emma’s defense. “It’s the middle-of-motherfucking-nowhere- _brooke_.”

Emma rolled her eyes and finished her latest drink. _What was this,_ she wondered, eyeing the glass. _3? 4?_

Marty held up his smartphone, which displayed a large, smug-looking headshot of her new boss. A wave of noise erupted from the dozen men in attendance, a combination of wolf whistles, off-color promises and animal-sounding hoots.

“Shit, girl. You’re chasing pussy up 95!” Chang teased in approval.

“That’s why she’s goin’ down…” Tanner bellowed, “… _east_.”

Another roar, this time followed by high-fives at their ingenuity.

“Fuck off, you losers,” Emma smiled. She truly would miss these idiots. “But, Marty, I am really proud of you for figuring out how to finally unlock your phone. Your 5-year-old granddaughter’s a good teacher.”

 _Shit, do I have some alcohol-induced PTSD?_ Emma laughed to herself as she crossed the New Hampshire border. It didn’t matter, she just proactively scheduled six months’ worth of boozing into one night. Lord knows she wouldn’t be getting such opportunities in Storybrooke. “Proactively scheduled” - that sounded like a phrase her new boss would like. Emma’s grin grew wider and her eyes twinkled behind her aviators. Marty was right: Regina Mills was possibly the hottest woman she had ever seen. But she was completely, utterly off-limits.

The tiny corner of New Hampshire tucked between Massachusetts and Maine was blink-and-you-miss it, which meant a half-hour later, Emma was across the border in her new state of residence, at a table at the Maine Diner in Wells. After a greasy late-lunch/early dinner designed to soak up any excess alcohol, a bathroom break and a quick stretch of the legs, Emma was back in her car, listening to the rev of her engine as she shifted from fourth to fifth. _God I love this car._

She spied the clock on the dashboard – 4 p.m. By now the movers would be almost done unloading her stuff into the new apartment; she’d be rolling in a little after 6 p.m. That would give her plenty of time to grab the keys and crash on her mattress to sleep off the rest of this godforsaken hangover.

Emma felt her car eat up the miles of 95 North as she drove and listened to a welcomed classic rock station found by the always-faithful Scan button. Off to the right she spied yet another tourism sign proclaiming the virtues of the state – “Maine: The Way Life Should Be.”

_I certainly hope so._

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting in this chapter, you’ll see that I’m tweaking Storybrooke here and there to make it fit the story and be as realistic as possible, as if it were an actual small town on the Maine coast. (I’ve lived and worked in several small towns throughout New England, including Maine.) And to answer a reviewer’s question: Henry is not Emma’s biological son. Regina, Emma and Henry have no ties and have never met prior to Emma interviewing for the job. Thanks as always to my co-pilot and beta, Alaska829Snow.

Storybrooke’s newest resident woke up on her very first morning in town, overwhelmed by one thing: It was so quiet.

The woman had spent her entire life living and working in or around Boston. Her internal rhythms had become synched with the sounds of honking horns, sirens, random shouts and the ambient noise of city life. Yet all of that was absent on a picture-perfect, eerily quiet, August Sunday morning in the coastal Maine town.

When first regaining consciousness, Emma opened her eyes in confusion: _Where am I?_ She slowly looked around and found herself in her new bedroom on her bare mattress surrounded by four blank cream-colored walls and a series of boxes. She found her phone, which had somehow made its way under her pillow, and checked the time: 9 a.m., an uncharacteristically late start. Emma slowly rolled to the edge of the mattress and stretched, then walked to the window to pull up the blinds.

Her bedroom overlooked the garage and the rest of the street, which emptied out near the harbor if you walked its full length. The apartment was nothing to look at from the outside, an old storehouse converted into two apartments, but it was clean, safe and cheap. For Emma, its biggest draw was the garage, which looked like it would collapse any minute, but would do just fine when it came to keeping the weather off her beloved Mustang. She could park her town-issued chief’s cruiser on the street; it was always an easy, free crime deterrent. But the garage? That was for her baby.

Now living just one block off Main Street, Emma was amazed she couldn’t hear a thing, save for the random ringing of far-off church bells. No cars. No pedestrians. Not even a dog. A short knock interrupted her wonderment.

“Just a minute!” she hollered into the living room.

Pulling on a pair of shorts and a sports bra, Emma tossed her tank top back over her head and opened the door to a petite, pixie-cut brunette who looked like she wandered away from a church supper.

“Hi! I’m Mary-Margaret,” the woman effused to the confused blonde. “Mary-Margaret Blanchard, your downstairs neighbor.”

_Mary-Margaret Blanchard? What a name. Did she escape a convent?_

“Hi, Mary-Margaret Blanchard, I’m Emma Swan.”

After shaking hands, the brunette looked at her expectantly. Emma stared back, confused.

“Oh, come in,” she insisted. “Sorry, I just got up. Long day yesterday.”

As Mary-Margaret walked in, Emma noticed she was carrying a box.

“I brought these for you, from the bakery,” the woman smiled, opening the lid to unveil a half-dozen pastries, which she set on the kitchen table.

Emma groaned happily, grabbing a bear claw. “Thank you, I’m starving. I’d offer you something but…” She tailed off, gesturing to the boxes. “Wait.” Emma spied the box marked KITCHEN-GLASSES-FRAGILE. Grabbing her keys, she slit the packing tape and pulled out two glasses, rinsed them and filled them from the tap.

“The water here OK?”

“It’s fine,” Mary-Margaret nodded, taking the offered glass. “Thanks. I’m very happy to have a police officer living upstairs. It makes me feel safe.”

Emma’s brow knitted in concern. “Do you feel unsafe? Is something wrong?”

“Oh! Oh, no, absolutely not; it’s just nice to know you’re upstairs, that’s all. I haven’t had a neighbor since last summer.”

“Well, I’m glad to be of service. How did you know I was the new chief?”

The brunette snickered. “Everyone knows everything in this town. And a new police chief? That’s big news.”

Emma assumed as much and just got her confirmation. “So, Mary-Margaret Blanchard, tell me about yourself.”

“Well,” she began nervously, “I teach at Storybrooke Elementary.”

Emma grabbed the pair of empty water glasses to refill them. “Relax,” she noted with a grin. “I’m not interrogating you.”

“Heh, oh, sorry. You sound so official.”

“Force of habit, I’ll try to be more laid back.” Emma smiled and handed over a filled glass.

“I teach third grade.”

“There’s two schools, right?” Emma reached for a plain donut, the bear claw a distant memory.

“Yes, the elementary is K through 5. The middle school is 6 through 8. The older kids go to the regional high school in Camden.”

_That’s right, the high school’s not in my jurisdiction. That cuts down a shit-ton of calls._

“What do you do in the summer?”

“I tutor, sometimes I help my friend at the diner if they’re jammed on busy tourist weekends. I love the beach. You wouldn’t know it,” she laughed, pointing out her fair skin. “I burn like crazy so I’m always under the umbrella, but it’s a great place to relax. We’ll have to go together sometime!”

“I’d like that.” _Surprisingly, I really would._

Mary-Margaret glanced around the box-strewn living room. Her new neighbor had a lot to unpack, but not as much as she would have suspected. “Do you want some help unpacking? I’m good at organizing and sorting.”

Emma didn’t like the idea of a stranger – even a kind one – going through her stuff, but she had another idea. “You know, I’ll take a raincheck on that. But what I would love is to get some groceries in this joint and at least find my coffee maker. Is the grocery store open?”

“Mmm hmmm, it opens at 6 a.m. on weekends.”

“Wanna come help me stock up?”

Mary-Margaret nodded enthusiastically and stood. “Let me just get my purse from my place; I have a list of things I need to get, too.”

The pair locked Emma’s apartment and stopped one floor below. “Want me to drive?” Mary-Margaret asked as she grabbed her keys.

Emma grinned. “Let me.”

XXXX

Emma finished putting away her groceries and declined a trip to the beach with her new friend: “Another time, I promise.” She couldn’t remember the last time she had lain on a beach, but after a few hours of getting to know her neighbor - although she was charming - she craved a little time to herself. After Mary-Margaret’s departure, Emma eyed the unopened boxes crowding the living room with disdain. Figuring she had done enough settling and friend-making for the day, the chief decided to go for a ride around her new town.

She hopped in the Mustang, windows down, the warm, summer air filling the car and blowing around her curls. A leisurely cruise through the streets was her favorite way of familiarizing herself with a new area. The former chief had taken her on a tour of the town’s highlights after her interview – the business district, the harbor, the beaches, lighthouse and scenic shore roads. But today she had plenty of gas and time to check out the real town: neighborhoods and back roads. Given it was the middle of August, Storybrooke was hopping with tourists and summer residents, shorts-clad families and couples clogged the business district, spending much-loved vacation dollars in the artisan shops, toy store, fudge shop, pharmacy and more.

After an hour of meandering, Emma ended up at the harbor, watching the bustle of the fish market, the marina and the apparently insanely popular Ice Cream Barn – if the 20-person-deep line was any indication. It was clear everyone headed to the harbor to cool off and today was certainly a good day to do so. It was 82 and muggy, but the stiff wind off the water fluttered flags, drew whitecaps on the ocean and brought some refreshing air to those overheating. Emma was ready to call it a day, turn around and head home when she spied a narrow road she hadn’t seen before. Feeling adventurous, she decided to find out where it led.

The Mustang rumbled low as she eased it down the tree-lined path and found it opened to a small parking lot and a playground. The lot was full, jammed with empty-bike-rack-bearing cars: _The bike path must start here._ Emma was about to reverse course and head out when she caught a glimpse of a little boy enjoying the castle-like play structure and a slim woman watching intently off to the side. She felt a touch pervy admiring the fine behind of what had to be the boy’s mother, especially when she realized just whom it was she was drinking in. As an SUV in front of her backed out with a now-full bike rack, Emma decided to swing in and say hello. Her first day of work wasn’t until the following morning; maybe it would be nice to reconnect in a casual setting.

Regina Mills cast a sharp glance at the gearhead who pulled his obnoxiously painted, overly loud muscle car into the just-vacated spot right behind her. _Overcompensating for a small penis, no doubt._ Three-year-old, car-and-truck-obsessed Henry, on the other hand, was thrilled.

“Momma! Momma! Look!” he squealed in excitement, clamoring down off the play set like a monkey.

“Careful, Henry, you’ll fall!”

“I don’t know, he looked pretty solid to me.”

A cutting remark was a microsecond from launching at the rude, intrusive stranger, when it was pulled back by the shocked mayor. “Miss Swan?” she asked, gaping. “ _Chief_ Swan?”

Regina could barely close her mouth as she took in her new chief of police: cut-off denim shorts atop ridiculously long, toned legs; low-top Chucks; a much-too-tight white tank top; and a pair of reflective aviators. But what stunned Regina most was the shock of long, blonde luscious curls cascading loosely off her head. When Emma came to interview, her hair was pulled into a utilitarian bun. It was the only everyday hairstyle that would work with her uniform’s campaign hat. Plus, it was the most professional looking; waltzing in like a hair model wouldn’t help land her an executive-level job in law enforcement.

“Good afternoon, Mayor, I hope I’m not intruding.”

“I, uh…no. No, not at all.”

Emma grinned to herself, she didn’t know the woman at all, but she knew when she set someone back on their heels - and she wasn’t even trying.

“Not a professional look, I know,” she admitted, gesturing at her clothes. “I apologize.”

“Oh, no, not at all, Chief. You’re not on duty.”

As Regina stammered and Emma grinned, Henry walked up and tapped Emma on the leg.

“Hey, shaver.” Emma crouched down to the boy’s level, her already-short shorts inching even higher. “My name is Emma, what’s yours?”

Henry smiled and reached out, a chubby hand softly touching Emma’s hair.

“Your hair is yellow like your car,” he noted in awe.

“That’s your name?” she teased gently. “Wow, it’s long.”

The boy giggled at Emma’s earnest foolishness. “I’m Henry.”

“And how old are you, Henry Your Hair Is Yellow Like Your Car?”

“Dat’s not my name!” he squealed.

Emma appeared confused, then smiled. “Ohhhhh, I thought it was your last name.” She nodded her head as if she were catching on. “OK, I hear you.”

Regina looked down and couldn’t help but smile at the conversation.

“I’m 3,” he noted seriously, the age-appropriate pronunciation sounding like “fa-whee.” “ _And a haff._ ”

“Really? I would have guessed 8.”

Henry let out a delighted squeak of disbelief. “Eight?” A big, broad, slightly dirt-covered smile followed. “You’re silly, Emma.”

“That’s Chief Swan, dear.”

Henry walked near the edge of the playground and pointed at the Mustang. “I like your car. It roars!”

“Wanna see it?”

Emma and Henry glanced up, shooting twin questioning looks at Regina, who nodded. The boy jammed his hand into Emma’s as she led him to the vehicle, then around the exterior. They made their way to the passenger side, Emma opening the door so he could climb in. Regina stood outside the open passenger-side window as Emma patiently answered the boy’s multitude of questions from the driver’s seat.

“Can I hear your car roar, Chief?”

“Uh, it’s pretty loud, bud, I don’t think your Mom would like that.” Emma winked at Regina, who blushed a tad as she realized Emma had easily read her disdain when she pulled up. “I could take you and your Mom for a ride, if you like.”

“Momma!” Henry gasped in excitement. “Please, Momma? Can we? Please!”

“I’m a child car seat safety technician,” Emma noted. “Certified by the NHTSA.”

“Excuse me?”

“The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration. I took a 40-hour course and passed a written test and a practicum. I can take his car seat out of your vehicle, put it in here properly and then put it back in yours when we get back.”

Regina was unsure. She rarely exposed Henry to adults, especially strangers. She didn’t let many people in her personal life and it felt too casual, even though the woman was a highly decorated officer whom she found impressive enough to entrust the entire town.

“Not today, dear,” she told Henry. “Perhaps another time?”

“Definitely,” Emma nodded. Henry pouted, silently tapping on the door, asking to get out. Regina opened it and out popped the boy, his face screwed up in anger and disappointment. Glaring at his mother, he stomped back off into the play castle, a fierce whine in his wake.

Emma felt awful. Quickly climbing out of the driver’s side, she walked around the car and stopped next to Regina, leaning on the hood. “I’m really sorry,” she noted sincerely. “I should have asked you without him. I…I haven’t been around kids much.”

“It’s fine, he has to learn he can’t have everything he wants. I’m afraid I overindulge him.”

Regina caught Emma’s deep green eyes. “You were wonderful with him. Do you have any nieces, nephews…children?” Law forbade Regina from asking Emma if she was married or had a family during the interview process, but she was pretty sure she knew the answer, anyway.

Emma laughed. “I think if I had kids I wouldn’t have pulled a rookie move like that. No, just me.”

An awkward silence settled on the pair for several seconds. “Listen, can I try to make it up to him? Maybe pull him out of his mood?”

“Pull a 3-year-old out of a bad mood?” she asked, amused. “This I have to see.”

Emma climbed under one of the turrets and sat next to a sulking Henry, her long, bare legs hanging off the edge. “Hey, Henry,” she started excitedly. “Do you think you could do me a favor?”

The boy turned his head up, a mixture of confusion and suspicion. Even preschoolers can sense when they’re possibly being played.

“I don’t know anyone in town yet and I was wondering…” She paused and blew out a dramatic breath. “Nah, you probably wouldn’t do it.”

“What is it?” he demanded excitedly. Emma smirked. _Gotcha_.

“Well…eh, I don’t know…”

“Tell me!” The boy’s eyes were bright with anticipation.

“I was wondering if you’d be my first friend here.”

Large brown eyes widened and a huge smile split across Henry’s face; he didn’t expect such an honor at his young age.

“OK, Chief!”

Regina hung back, knowing her current role as bad guy would only hamper the blonde’s efforts if they appeared to be working together. She watched, amazed, as her son cheered in excitement, then high-fived Emma with all his might. The brunette smiled to herself, Henry was no easy touch. This woman was good. Very good.

XXXX

Regina pulled the comforter over Henry’s finally sleeping form and padded out quietly. _At last._

Ever since Emma took leave of the pair at the playground, the new chief was all Henry could talk about. All through the short ride home and subsequent hours until dinner (“Where did the Chief come from?”), dinner itself (“Where does she live?”), a bath (“When can we go on a ride in her car?”) and bedtime stories (“Do you think she has any other cars?”). The only reason she finally got the boy to bed was a promise to take him to the swearing-in the following evening, but only if he got a good night’s sleep.

Regina sat in her study, intending to finish up a meeting agenda for the next day, but found herself ruminating on Chief Emma Swan instead. She had been thoroughly impressed – and surprised – when the woman’s resume crossed her desk. Regina feared that any out-of-state applicants would be big-city know-it-alls, taking the job simply to kick back, luxuriate in the town’s low crime rate and collect a nice pension until retirement.

She read Emma’s extensive and impressive resume and had one thought: _Why on earth would she want to come here?_ A bachelor’s degree, with honors, in criminal justice from UMass-Boston. No. 2 in her class at the state police academy. Fourteen years on the state police, already a captain at 36. Extensive work on the gang, drug and now emergency-response teams. A jacket full of commendations and awards. The recruiter hired by the town to find and vet applicants said he had never seen such an accomplished candidate. This woman wasn’t your run-of-the-mill, highway patrolling ticket-writer, she was clearly a person who excelled at hard, dangerous, work. What could she possibly want with this seasonal tourist town?

And that’s exactly what Regina asked the captain when she walked into her office to interview with the search committee 10 weeks earlier. Emma strode in assured, long and lean, a crisp, black business suit hugging her fit frame. Just enough makeup, but not too much, no jewelry save for a small pair of gold hoops in her ears. And what Regina now knew were acres of golden curls, disciplined into a tight bun at the top of her neck.

She expertly navigated the fine line between confidence and arrogance, answering every question thoughtfully. If the woman had prepared her answers, they certainly sounded natural and unrehearsed. But, then again, Regina realized the woman was a veteran police officer, she had seen her share of courtrooms and knew how to answer questions before a crowd. Regina reflected that she had never seen such a confident, self-assured person in her life.

“Is it true you were involved in catching the Boston Marathon bombing suspects?” a committee member asked in admiration.

Emma’s face, which up until now had been a mix of polite grin and pensive eyes, darkened a touch. “I was on the scene when the suspect was apprehended,” she noted, recalling that long day in Watertown. “I was on-scene when he and his brother began that firefight in the streets the night before.”

Irv, the town pharmacist, leaned forward in fascination. “Did you shoot your gun?”

Regina nearly rolled her eyes. _These people couldn’t sound more like yokels if they tried._

“Yes, I discharged my firearm.” The committee practically ahhhed at the police jargon. Emma enjoyed the euphemism. _They would pass out if I told them the exact details, that I emptied an entire clip._ “But I was one of many. I was just doing my job.”

The search committee absorbed the information quietly, looking as if they were ready to pin a medal to Emma’s chest. They had been interviewing her for an hour, time in which Regina sat back and let the others do the questioning. They had covered nearly everything she would have, save for one question.

“Captain Swan, given your experience and accomplishments, why are you interested in securing the safety of a small town in Maine?”

Emma quickly snapped out of her reverie, jolted by the up-until-now-silent Mayor’s smooth, low voice. She paused for a second, captured the set of brown eyes across the table, and began. “Drugs, gangs and emergency response are a young trooper’s game.”

Regina scoffed. “I would hardly call you old.”

“I apologize, that didn’t come out as clear as I intended.” Emma leaned forward and threaded her fingers together, laying them on the table. “In the next few years, the state police will promote me to a position behind a desk. I will help formulate strategy and policy, but I would be forced to be more concerned with politics than policing. I love and am proud of my work with the state police, but I would like to police a town in which I can make a difference.”

“But as chief, you would be behind a desk and more involved in politics than you may like,” Regina contended. “You would be responsible for your department’s budget and be required to attention a multitude of meetings. Plus, you would be charged with managing a staff of 12.”

Emma nodded. “I am certainly aware of that. However, this position would allow me to mentor and build smart, effective, caring police officers and help keep a beautiful town safe and thriving. Simply put, if I’m destined for a desk, I want it to be where I can see my impact daily, with my officers and my citizens.”

Regina snuck a glance at the committee members; they looked like they were ready to start singing “God Bless America.”

“Plus,” Emma added with a grin, “your town is much prettier than Boston.”

Regina returned to the present, booting up her laptop as she thought about the Chief’s slightly mischievous grin, it was the same one she shared with Henry, but a little different. Today she appeared to meet the real Emma Swan, or at least more of her than she had in a formal interview setting. She was certainly more casual, definitely warm and sincere, but still guarded. Regina couldn’t put her finger on it, but sensed a thread of melancholy running just under the surface.

Before the agenda for the Planning Board meeting monopolized her attention, Regina indulged herself in one last thought:  _What other talents is she hiding?_

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely reaction to Chapter 1. Reviews are sincerely appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a head’s up: This story is a slower burn than I normally write. It’s going to take a little while to get our girls together given the circumstances of the story. Hang in there, it will happen - and it will be worth the wait, I promise. The pacing of the first few chapters may seem slow, but there’s a lot of ground work to lay. If you’re finding it a bit light on SQ, it will pick up quickly.

“Mornin’, Chief.”

Emma walked into the police station, momentarily confused by the greeting. _Oh, yeah, that’s me._

“Hi, Martha.”

Emma remembered the department’s daytime – and best - dispatcher from her interview. The older woman was a little crotchety with her coworkers – and occasionally a lot with the public - but she was professional and never got rattled under pressure. Martha had a voice that reflected decades of Camels and coffee, but skills that could help her talk through any panicking caller. Over her 21 years with Storybrooke Police, she had helped deliver four babies and saved a man from choking – all over the phone.

_“I met Martha when her husband Ed damn near cut off his hand with a chainsaw,” retiring Chief Edgar Burroughs told his soon-to-be successor. “There was blood everywhere and Ed was screamin’ like a banshee. But Martha, she was calm, cool and collected. Didn’t say a word, just kept putting pressure on the hand to slow the bleeding and keep it from fallin’ off the bone. I knew right there, she’d make a great dispatcher.”_

“Ah’m good, Chief,” Martha replied. “Your dress uniform’s in your office. Try it on and let me know if it fits. If it doesn’t, I can have David run it up to Gunny and get it set for tonight.”

Emma looked confused. “Gunny?”

“Gunnerson. _The tailor,_ ” Martha huffed, as if Emma should have known who the town tailor was on Day 1. “Hold on— Storybrooke Police, you’re being recorded…”

The blonde nodded and headed across the threshold of her new office, the frosted window of which bore lettering in bold, block letters:

**POLICE CHIEF EMMA SWAN**

If she ever got 30 seconds alone and away from Martha’s reportedly ever-watchful eyes, she’d snap a pic and text it to Robert.

She dropped her gear bag on her desk and spied the least-fashionable, most-formal uniform she’d ever wear hanging off a hook to the right of the door. A standard police chief’s dress uniform was black and boxy: blazer with shiny, brass buttons, white dress shirt, pants and a tie. Four brass stars on each shoulder loop signified her rank, and it was literally topped off with a standard police peaked cap, a far cry from the dramatic campaign hat she wore as a trooper. In fact, the whole ensemble made her state trooper uniform look downright fashionable.

Emma dressed – it fit, at least – and leaned her head out of the office door: “Uniform fits fine.”

“Come out here, lemme see.”

The new chief walked out and stood still as Martha walked around inspecting, tugging her jacket taut and straightening her tie.

“It’ll do.”

Turning on a heel, Emma spied a glint of metal under the dispatcher’s desk and was about to question it when Lt. David Nolan walked in. “Hey, Nolan.” Emma walked across the bullpen to shake hands with the man she met weeks earlier.

“Chief, glad you’re here.” Storybrooke wasn’t big enough to merit a deputy chief, but Nolan fit nicely as an unofficial second-in-command. He was the highest-ranking officer aside from Emma and, according to his jacket, a good one at that.

The All-American-looking man enlisted in the Army right out of Camden Regional and spent 10 years deployed, including a heavy tour in the Middle East. Offered an honorable discharge as part of the troop draw-down, he returned to enter the police academy, grabbing the next open spot on his hometown force.

“Come see me when you have a sec.”

“Got one now,” he replied, following the Chief into her office, closing the door and taking a seat.

“So, I work for Martha now, right? She runs things?”

The lieutenant laughed heartily. “You got that already? You’re going to do well here.”

“About tonight, spread the word: Don’t feel like you guys have to stay for the whole thing. We’ll take our pictures for the paper and then you can head out whenever you like.”

“Ah, it’s OK. I like those things, plus my girlfriend wants to go.” The man grinned mischievously. “You met her yesterday…Mary-Margaret.”

“Get out!” Emma exclaimed, mouth open in surprise. “Why didn’t she say anything? Was she scouting me out for you?”

“Heh, nah. She’s a little shy and was worried it might make things weird if you knew before you met her.”

“Well, you tell Mary-Margaret Blanchard I like her just fine on her own.” The recent peek under Martha’s desk resurfaced to the front of her brain. “Oh, hey, is it me or is there a sawed-off shotgun under the dispatcher’s desk?”

“There is a sawed-off shotgun under the desk,” he confirmed with a grin. “It’s Martha’s.”

The statement of fact was so bizarre, surprising and insanely dangerous, Emma could barely form a response.

“She watches a lot of cop shows. I think she wants protection in case the Taliban or whatever storm in here and try to overthrow the station,” he laughed. It was insane, but it’d been a fact of life for so long, everyone accepted it as normal. “If it helps, she has a license to carry.”

“Did Burroughs know about it?”

“Know about it? I’m pretty sure he sawed it off for her.”

Emma couldn’t help but shake her head. “OK, I’ll deal with that later.”

Static from Nolan’s radio interrupted the conversation, followed by a female voice. “Alpha-1, what’s your 20?”

“Station.”

“10-4, Alpha-1, 10-54, Fowler Road, requesting assistance.”

“10-4, Alpha-2, on my way.”

Emma thought she knew every 10 code, but that one escaped her.

“I don’t want to sound stupid on the first day, but 10-54?”

Nolan grinned as he stood and made his way out the door.

“‘Livestock on road.’ Get used to it.”

XXXX

Emma spent the rest of her day getting settled and equipped with her radio, firearm and the chief’s car, which smelled like fast food. She left the windows open and made a quick trip to the drugstore to grab a hanging pine tree air freshener; it seemed fitting. On her way to the counter, she passed a small display of toys, including several Matchbox cars. No yellow Mustang, but it gave her an idea.

Storybrooke PD had 10 officers and each day was split into three shifts: Alpha, 7 a.m.-3 p.m.; Bravo, 3 p.m. to 11 p.m.; and Charlie, 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. Two officers were on duty for Alpha and Bravo shifts, one for Charlie (“Edgar always said two would be a waste of money,” Nolan explained. “Nothin’ goes on past midnight. If Charlie-1 gets in a jam, he can call one of us in.”). Each officer had their own call sign according to the shift they were working; the chief was always Delta-1.

Emma was in the middle of reviewing personnel files and performance reports when Shannon Bell, Alpha-2, knocked on the door. “Got a minute, Chief?”

“I have several, c’mon in.” Emma stood up, shook Bell’s hand and then gestured to the empty chair.

“I just wanted to come in and say hey, see how you’re settling in.”

“So far, so good. I’m just going to do whatever Martha says and I think I’ll be OK.”

“You _are_ good.”

Emma examined the woman critically. If you saw the petite blonde on the street, she looked more like a retired gymnast than a police officer. But those who underestimated her did so at their own peril. While she may have looked sweet and unassuming, in reality she was a lethal weapon. In her spare time Bell taught kickboxing three times a week at the local gym and was a second-level black belt in Krav Maga, as well as the reigning New England Women’s Champion in her belt class. She was an expert at taking down drunks and belligerents if need be; Nolan termed it “getting your Bell rung.”

“You ready for tonight?”

“Yup, got my glad rags, practicing my smile for the camera, you know all the tricks.”

The young officer smiled, she was really going to like working for what seemed like a kindred spirit. She was _this close_ to applying for a job in Augusta when she heard Edgar was leaving.

The conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by Nolan’s head peeking through. “Tink, are you taking that detail this weekend at the festival or am I?”

Bell grabbed a pencil off Emma’s desk and whipped it at him, missing by an inch as he ducked. “Don’t call me that, you jackass!” She paled a shade when she realized what she just did and where she was. “Oh, damn, sorry, Chief, I—.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” Emma laughed. “If someone’s being a jackass, you’re free to call them out on it. See you tonight.”

Emma went back to file-reading, but couldn’t stop a chuckle when she heard what sounded like Nolan’s voice croaking out a muffled “Ow!” from the bullpen about 1 minute after the blonde left.

After lunch at her desk and a visit from IT to ensure her laptop and town-issued cell were configured, up and running, Emma entertained another guest, this one scheduled: Sidney Glass of The Storybrooke Daily Mirror.

“Chief, paperman’s here!” Marta bellowed by way of introduction.

Emma stood and extended her hand. “Sidney, nice to meet you.” Chuckling she added, “Sorry” nodding her head toward the dispatch desk.

“Heh, I know Martha well. Thanks for taking the time on what must be a busy day. I know we’ll get pictures tonight and we have all your background, but we have a big piece planned and I’d like to get most of it written up before the ceremony.”

Emma rolled out rehearsed – but sincere – statements about her vision for Storybrooke’s force and its role in helping the town grow safely. She answered the obvious questions, making sure to refute what becoming a tall tale regarding her role in the Boston Marathon bombing aftermath. Apparently folks around town were already proud of their new chief and an innocent town-wide game of Telephone was turning her into some sort of superhero. The last thing she wanted was to be mistakenly portrayed as a Black Widow-like lone wolf who single-handedly defeated all the bad guys.

“So, last question: What do you like to do in your spare time?”

“To be honest, I’ve never really had any. I like to go to the gym and I like to run, but otherwise I haven’t had the time to cultivate any hobbies. I’m sure I’ll find some in Storybrooke.”

XXXX

Emma walked into the town’s auditorium exuding confidence in her sharp dress blues, but inside she was more nervous than she’d been in a long time. If the swearing-in were an event, it would have been sold-out; she had to park around the block to get a spot. Although it was heartwarming to see a community value its law enforcement, she had to wonder: _Don’t these people have anything better to do on a Monday night?_

Despite the fact she knew very few people in the hall, Emma was nearly swallowed up upon entrance by well-wishers and concerned citizens, who offered everything from introductions to complaints about a neighbor’s loud rooster. She was just about to break away with a polite excuse when rescue came in the form of a satiny voice over her shoulder.

“Good evening, Chief.”

Emma internally sighed in relief, made a polite good-bye to the rooster-bitcher and turned to find the Mayor, poured into a short-sleeved, belted grey dress that displayed her curves wonderfully.

“Mayor Mills.”

“Chief!” squeaked a high voice somewhere around her thigh.

“Henry.” Emma smiled warmly in surprise. “You came to see me get my badge?”

The boy grinned wide. “Yup! All dressed up,” he noted, tugging on his Polo shirt and checked Bermuda shorts.

“I’m afraid I couldn’t keep him away. He’s quite a fan.”

“Well, he is my first friend in town. I’m really glad you’re here,” she stage-whispered to the boy, crouching down to his level.

“I like your jacket, it’s shiny.” Henry rubbed his fingers over the bright, brass buttons.

“Uniform, dear.”

“Pretty cool, huh?”

Regina cleared her throat, trying to regain Emma’s attention, which was lost to her son. “Chief, do you have any family or friends here tonight?”

The blonde stood to her full height, green eyes swimming with confusion.

“Was I supposed to?”

Now it was Regina’s turn to be flummoxed. _Who wouldn’t invite their family and friends to such an achievement?_

The women stared at each other in mutual bewilderment, until Emma broke first, trying to supply some clarity. “I, uh…I don’t have any family,” she noted, surprisingly shy. “My friends are all down in Mass. working.”

Regina’s eyes softened, embarrassed she put the woman in a position that necessitated such a personal revelation. “I apologize, I truly didn’t mean to pry. I was wondering whom you wanted to pin your badge.”

“Oh, right, the ceremony.” Emma had been to a few before; an officer’s spouse or parents usually did the honors, hooking the badge on the breast pocket of the blazer. “Well, um, you’ll be swearing me in, right? Would you mind?”

Emma’s voice was so soft, so uncertain, it threw Regina for a few seconds. In the very short professional time she had known the woman, Regina had only met confident, accomplished State Police Captain Emma Swan, and new Storybrooke resident Emma Swan. Here, Regina realized, she had just met Emma Swan, the person.

“I would be honored.” Regina smiled, confident enough for the both of them. Casting a glance at the clock on the wall, she gestured toward the stage: “Shall we?”

The pair made their way to the stage, while Henry plopped in the front row, talking to an adult woman animatedly. Emma looked on. _Family friend? Aunt? Girlfr—nah._

“Good evening, ladies and gentleman. Thank you for joining us. Tonight we will swear in Storybrooke’s 10th police chief, Emma Swan. I will administer the oath, Chief Swan will share a few words and then we can all enjoy refreshments, courtesy of the Lions Club.”

Emma was just about to place her hand on the Bible proffered by Regina when a loud “Momma!” rang out. A faint blush covered Regina’s cheeks as she squatted down at the edge of the stage with a forced polite smile to see what the boy needed. She seemed to sigh, smirked, then nodded, using one arm to hoist him onstage.

Regina looked at Emma as she spoke into the mic: “If you wouldn’t mind, my son would like to join us. He’s quite a fan of the chief’s already.” Henry bounded over and stood in between Emma and Regina, beaming. The crowd practically cooed in approval.

Regina stated the lines of the oath, Emma following, wondering if they never sounded as good coming from another human being. The brunette’s voice was practically hypnotic. _Focus!_ Emma ordered herself. Henry looked up at both women, excited by the intermittent explosions of bright light from the flash of Sidney’s photographer.

“So help me God,” Emma finished. Regina leaned in close as she slowly slid the back of the shiny, gold badge into the breast pocket of Emma’s blazer. The blonde checked out for a few heartbeats, overcome by the gorgeous woman’s proximity and the smell of her light perfume, but was brought back quickly when Henry led the audience in clapping.

Regina’s voice was as warm and soft as the hand she offered in congratulations. “Welcome to Storybrooke, Chief.” She took a seat off to the side of the podium with the City Council, Henry on her lap, while Emma stepped up to address the crowd.

“Thank you, Mayor Mills,” she began, looking over her shoulder, “and Henry, he’s my first friend here in town.” Emma grinned as she heard several women “awwww” in the audience. “I’d like to keep this brief, because I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry and that food looks amazing.” The crowd laughed in approval. Regina nodded admiringly. _This woman is smooth._

“I am extremely proud and grateful to be your new chief of police. I look forward to continuing the fine tradition of securing the safety of my new home and community. While I am proud of my work with the Massachusetts State Police—”

“Boston Strong!” shouted an exuberant voice from the back of the room, followed by a raucous round of applause. A small smile curled Emma’s lips at the corners, a tiny nod acknowledging their support. Mainers had no love for Massholes, other than the money they spent in their state on vacation. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t support them when they needed it.

“While I am proud of my work in the Commonwealth, I look forward to helping you build a strong, bright and safe future for Storybrooke. Thank you.”

The crowded headed for the refreshments while Emma, her officers, Regina and the City Council posed for pictures. Henry requested one of him and his new BFF, as well as one with Henry, his mother and the chief.

Emma dug her personal phone out of her pocket and handed it to the photographer. “Get one for me? I’d like to send it to some of my friends.” The trio duplicated their smiles, then Regina took off after Henry who wanted a brownie – now.

Mary-Margaret quickly sidled up, Nolan in tow.

“Youuuuu,” Emma admonished with a grin. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I….” she stammered, “…uh…”

“Eh, I’m kidding, I understand. My officer explained things,” she smiled. “This is quite the party. Most chiefs are sworn in at the station or a City Council meeting.”

“It’s a big deal in town,” the brunette explained. “Edgar was chief for 27 years.”

“Where’d he end up?”

The lieutenant rolled his eyes. “Huge house on Sebago. _On the lake._ ”

Raising her eyebrows in surprise, Emma could only sputter, “Wow.” Sebago Lake was one of the state’s most popular vacation spots; houses on the water easily went north of $1 million. “Well done, Edgar.”

Emma took a bite of a brownie, swallowed and grinned at her new friends. “I think I got low-balled on my salary.”

XXXX

Emma texted the picture of her, Regina and Henry to Robert without a message. A replied followed less than 2 minutes later:

**SHIT, GRL, YOU ALREADY HAD A KID W HER?!?**

_Ha ha_

**Go get it**

_How do you know she’s not married?_

Emma figured she wasn’t. She didn’t spy a ring on the woman’s finger and Regina Mills looked like a woman who would wear one. She made a mental note to find out more about her new boss through back channels.

**She’s not, widow. Checked records for you. Now step to.**

Widow. Emma filed another mental note.

_Yeah, gr8 idea, sleeping with the boss. Who has a kid. In this tiny-ass town where you can’t fart without someone knowing._

**Just means you gotta be stealth and I know you’re trained for that**

_10-8? Shouldn’t be texting_

**10-7, lunch**

_Ending this stupid convo. Be safe._

**You know I’m right. Srsly u look good w/ all those stars. WTG**

Emma smiled and undressed, laying out her litany of tech on her nightstand: personal cell, town cell, police radio. She fell asleep to the gravely tones of Bravo-2 calling a wrecker for a motorist with a flat.

XXXX

The following afternoon, Regina was shutting down her laptop and packing her work bag with files for the evening when her secretary knocked and walked in bearing an interoffice envelope.

“It’s from the Chief. I thought you might want to see it before you head out.”

“Thank you, Laura. Have a good night.”

Curious, Regina immediately uncurled the red twine holding the flap closed and pulled out a sheet of paper – a photocopy of a 2013 certificate from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration declaring Captain Emma Swan a certified child car seat technician. Regina couldn’t help but smirk at the accompanying yellow Post-it note :

**FYI – E.S.**

 

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my friend, Alaska829Snow, for the beta and answering my near-endless stream of odd questions. Thanks also to the lovely Guest reviewers whom I cannot thank individually.

It was the last week of August in Storybrooke, Maine, which meant one final wave of summer tourists – and accompanying police calls - in the seaside town. They’d continue to get tourists after Labor Day, but now it would be mostly quiet couples and fall foliage senior bus tours. The raucous feel of hot summer nights and carefree vacationers would ebb as the start of another school year loomed, washing away the lucrative glut of tourists like the tide.

Joining the department well into tourist season was like hitting the ground running, but Emma liked it, it forced her to get up to speed quickly. She realized that with Storybrooke she would have the best of both worlds: bustling summer hot spot and quiet winter hamlet. There would always be challenges but they would keep her and her officers from getting bored and their skills dull. Cooper’s cows could always be counted on to find the hole in the fence and roam Burnt Hill Road, just like the occasional tourist brave with drink would need an escort out of the Quarterdeck on quarter draft night.

The relatively quiet Wednesday night found the Chief riding shotgun with Bravo-1, Officer Graham Humbert. She had taken to joining each officer on patrol once a week as a way to get to know her staff and the town. It was also an easygoing, casual way to get more background on what made the town – and its characters - tick: who was feuding with whom, what neighborhoods or residences were perpetual trouble, which bars were the sources of the most calls. For the latter, the answer was quite clear.

“Bravo-2, 10-10, 155 Hutch Road.”

“10-4. 10-10, 155 Hutch Road,” came the gravelly reply across the radio. Emma could practically hear the smile stretch across the stubble on the stout officer’s face. She had learned – and seen firsthand – that he loved nothing more than busting up a fight between drunks.

Emma chuckled. You didn’t have to be in town long to know the address. “Why does Don always send Petit to The Rabbit Hole?”

Humbert reached the end of Park and took a right onto Mifflin. “Would you want to mess with him?” he asked. “Plus, Choo-Choo says I’m too pretty.” Emma snorted.

Second-shift dispatcher Don Landress called himself a “model train enthusiast.” “Pffft,” Petit scoffed when the man’s nickname was explained to the Chief. “He’s a grown-ass man who plays with trains.”

A mischievous glint sparkled in Humbert’s eyes. “Let’s poke Petit,” he grinned, keying the mic. “Bravo-2: Bravo-1, Delta-1, 10-12. 10-78?” Emma barked out a laugh as soon as the mic was off; Humbert had asked the officer if he needed their help.

The underlying tone was evident in the quick, gruff reply. “10-1, Bravo-1, Delta-1.” 10-1: “Unable to copy” aka, “I can’t hear you.” Translation: “Fuck off.”

The pair was still snickering as they passed 108 Mifflin Street. “That the mayor’s house?” Emma knew it was, but playing dumb would allow her to ask more questions.

“Yup.”

“Awful big house for one woman and a little boy.”

“Yeah, it was her family’s house. She and Daniel had a cute place over on Spruce. She moved in with her parents after he was killed, before the boy was born. Her parents died in a car accident less than a year later.”

“Jesus,” Emma breathed. She knew the Mayor was a widow, but not that she had lost her parents soon after. She noted a lone light shining in the second-floor window of the otherwise-dark, impressive mansion. “Poor woman. What happened to her husband?”

Graham rubbed his thin beard, the large, white house disappearing from view as the patrol car turned on Pine, heading for a spin around the waterfront dining and drinking district. “Daniel Gendreau,” he recalled, wistful. “He was a really good guy. He managed Mills Lumber; the Mayor’s family were old-time lumber barons, owned most of the county. Made a ton of money.”

“Bravo-2: 10-15, 10-19.”

“Heh,” Graham chuckled. “Don’s going to have company tonight. Anyway, Daniel was deep in the woods outside town marking an area they were thinking about clear-cutting. The best we figure is he came across someone – or something – he shouldn’t have because he never returned. We went out looking when he didn’t go home that night, found him with his head bashed in. Terrible.” The man shook his head, as if that would wipe away the memory.

“Did you find the perps?”

“No, fucking Ezra.”

“Who?”

“Ezra Lincoln, was on my shift. We get out there and he fucked up the scene. There were some tire tracks and boot prints in the mud and that dumb fucker…” Graham smacked the steering wheel in frustration, his wedding band catching the glint of a streetlight. “Sorry, it still pisses me off. That dumb fuck walked across them, contaminated the whole scene. We brought the state crime scene guys in to help and even they couldn’t get anything.”

The cruiser rolled past the waterfront; everyone was behaving. Patrons walked in and out of shops, restaurants and bars, reveling in the clear night and the salty smell of the ocean in the warm, summer air.

“Probably wouldn’t have mattered,” Emma remarked, “contamination of the scene would have disallowed any evidence collected.”

“I know,” he sighed. “It just pisses me off. He was a good guy and he had a kid on the way and poor Regina…”

“Do you know her well?”

“Used to. Daniel was in our dart league at The Rabbit Hole and used to come out for drinks. They had Ruby and me over for dinner a few times. She was always a little formal, you know, but we were friends; we all grew up here. His death crushed her. She had the baby a few months later and maybe six months after that her parents were killed.”

The cruiser was stopped at a red light in front of Lobster Joe’s when a Jeep in the next lane waved and yelled through the open window: “How do we get to the lighthouse?”

“Follow the scenic road signs, can’t miss it,” Emma yelled back. She tried to hold back a smirk as she pointed to the large sign just ahead bearing: **SCENIC ROAD – LIGHTHOUSE** and an arrow.

The deep thrum of the cruiser engines purred as the light turned green and Humbert pulled away, heading toward Main. “It was terrible,” he continued. “They sent me and Pastor Pat to go tell her; I will never forget her face. She’s never been the same since. Now she keeps to herself, lives for work and Henry. She’s polite and nice and all, but it doesn’t feel real, you know. Ruby tries to get her to socialize a couple of times a year but she always has an excuse.”

Emma thought about the interactions she’d seen between the Mayor, residents and town employees. They were polite and professional, but never personal. She’d smile, but the emotion would never reach her eyes, which always seem to look sad. Then she thought about her meetings with the woman. The Mayor wasn’t warm or effusive – hell, she still refused to call Emma anything other than “Chief” – but she did appear a touch more relaxed.

“She’s doesn’t seem that way me,” the blonde noted.

“Of course not, Henry’s president of your fan club,” he snickered. “If you want to get in good with the Mayor, Henry’s the fastest, best and probably the only way – he’s the center of her universe.”

“I’m not trying to get in good with the Mayor,” Emma rebutted, more defensively than she intended.

“Well, you may not be trying but if that kid adores you like I hear he does, you’re 10 steps ahead of everyone else. Listen, we’re a bunch of old, crotchety Yankees up here, we don’t do emotion like you Flatlanders. In this neck of the woods we like results, which is why Regina has been Mayor for so long. She gets results and cuts through all the crap.”

Emma tilted her head in confusion. “Why isn’t she Mayor Gendreau?”

“Regina always went by Mills, she was proud of it. Henry is a Mills, too.”

“Not Gendreau?”

“Ruby got her to go out once after Henry was born. She had a couple of drinks and let it slip that it would hurt too much to hear it.” Graham snorted, ruefully. “Wouldn’t have mattered much, the boy looks just like him.”

Emma shook her head as the cruiser pulled up to Granny’s. “That’s just terrible.”

“Coffee?”

Emma nodded and reached for the mic. “Bravo-1, Delta-1, 10-7.”

“10-4, Delta-1.”

The officers climbed out of the cruiser and headed toward the door.

“What happened to Ezra?”

Humbert raised an eyebrow as he caught Emma’s eyes: “Disappeared.”

“Like, dead?”

“Edgar fired him for fucking up the crime scene. Ezra packed up his shit and moved out of his apartment the next day. Well, they think he did. No one saw him leave and no one’s seen him since.” The man shook his head in disgust and walked into the diner.

 _Well, there’s more to that story._ Emma made a note to pull the Gendreau file next time Martha was out on a smoke break.

XXXX

“Why so serious, Nolan? You look like you your dog died.”

“’S nothing, just the softball league ends this weekend.”

“Do you need a day off to work through your feelings?”

Bell snorted in the background. A pencil flew at her head; she easily batted it away.

“We’re not made of goddamn pencils, David!” Martha snapped. “The next time—” The dispatcher’s voice switched from angry grandmother to professional robot in a millisecond as a call interrupted her scolding: “Storybrooke Police, you’re being recorded…” Martha had been especially testy since Emma made her turn in her shotgun. The Chief gave her a Taser, but she grumbled it wasn’t the same.

Emma caught her lieutenant discretely flip off his fellow officer before continuing. “Brian Briggs went down, twisted an ankle falling off a dock. Dumbass.”

“First base,” Bell supplied.

“Now we’re down a man and we’re playing Town Hall.”

“And we love to beat Town Hall,” Bell added with a hint of malice. “Paper pushers.”

Emma leaned in with a conspiratorial smile and a whisper. “What about Martha?”

The officers snickered. “We have her sit on the bench and glare at the other team. Psychological weapon.”

“Maybe we could pull Edgar off the lake,” Bell joked.

Emma’s eyes widened comically. “He played?” She tried to picture the former chief – 62 and pushing 300 lbs – running the bases.

“He coached,” David noted, curling his fingers into air quotes.

“That means he mostly drank all the beer in our cooler before the game ended,” Bell explained.

“Well,” Emma offered, “I can play.”

“You play softball?” David asked incredulously.

_If you only knew._

“Yeah, I subbed on my troop’s team for the past few years. When I had a steadier schedule I was in an over-30 league.”

“What can you play?”

“I’m a terrible pitcher, but I can handle anything else.”

“What about 1B?”

“No problem.”

David clapped his hands together in excitement. “You’re on!”

Four days later, Emma found herself standing near first base, taking grounders from Bell, who was having no success sneaking anything by her. She tried to trip Emma up, smacking a bullet halfway to second base, but Emma smoothly ranged to her right, the ball landing in the web of her glove like it was being pulled by a magnet.

“We’re kicking Briggs off the team next year!” Bell announced to no one in particular.

Emma snagged ball after ball until she heard a high-pitch voice yell: “CHIEEEEF!” She followed the noise toward the bench and found Henry, closely trailed by the mayor, resplendent in running shorts, sneakers and a jersey proclaiming TOWN HALL across her generous chest.

Emma gaped.

“Heads-up!”

The blonde turned just in time to avoid being nailed by a line drive, courtesy of Bell.

“Sorry, Chief!”

Emma waved it off with her glove and walked over to the bench. “Hey, buddy, come to cheer me on?”

“He came to cheer me on,” Regina noted archly, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, we’ll see about that.”

“Really now?”

Uninterested in the women’s banter, Henry inquired after the one thing on his mind, tugging on Emma’s cargo shorts. “Do you have any popsicles?”

“Bell!” Emma hollered at her officer. The blonde ran over, nodding at Regina and Henry. “Do we have any popsicles?”

“We do, Chief. But only for good boys.”

“Well, that takes out Nolan,” Emma laughed.

“And pretty much every guy on our team.” Bell smiled radiantly at the boy. “That would leave them all for you, Mr. Mills.”

Henry beamed and was about to sprint to SPD’s bench when Regina grabbed him by the back of his T-shirt. “And where do you think you’re going, you traitor?” she smiled.

He returned her gaze quizzically. “What’s a tray-ta?”

“Someone who has good taste and can be bought for a Popsicle,” Emma chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Maybe your Mom will let you come over later?”

“We’ll see.”

“Depends on how bad we’re beating you?”

“You talk a good game, Chief.”

Emma had five separate, borderline-inappropriate comebacks on her lips, but wisely held them all back. Instead, she winked and headed for her bench, grabbing an empty spot next to Nolan.

“So Town Hall has Henry for a mascot and we have…Martha?” she whispered, eyeing their dispatcher, who was sitting on the edge of the bench, smoking and trying to give the Mayor the Evil Eye as she walked onto the field.

“Doesn’t seem fair, does it?” he laughed in response.

“The Mayor any good?”

The lieutenant nodded solemnly. “Pitcher.”

_Of course she’s a pitcher. Of course._

“I’ m surprised she plays. Doesn’t seem like her.”

“I think she did it in the beginning to show she’s a good sport, publicity stunt for the newspaper, that sort of thing. But she became really good. Now I think she just likes striking everyone one out.”

Emma and Nolan sat silently, watching Regina warm up. Driving through her hips, she pulled her pitching arm out of her glove, swung it back until it was nearly parallel to the ground and then rocked it toward home base, the ball spinning out of her fingers and into a high arc, somehow moving four different ways a once before landing in the catcher’s glove.

“Wow, that’s filthy.”

“Knuckle curve. Struck me out twice last year with it. Twice. Leroy told me I had to walk home.”

“He should talk,” Bell added, “small strike zone.”

“Bite me, Tink,” Petit barked, taking a pull off his beer.

Emma was impressed. The point of slow-pitch softball wasn’t speed or power, but tricky ball movement. The batter would be sure he was about to crush the ball right in front of him, only to watch it suddenly drop, curve or dance anywhere other than where he expected.

“As far as I can tell, she’s got a cutter, a curveball and that knuckle curve,” Nolan explained. “She’s easily the best pitcher in the league.”

“And she knows it.”

The man laughed. “And she knows we know it, too.”

Two innings later, Emma met Regina Mills The Pitcher, as she stood in the batter’s box and tried to keep her eye on the ball. It wasn’t easy, as she had become a big fan of Regina Mills, casual dresser. The woman’s running shorts displayed a lovely amount of firm thigh atop tan legs. The shapeless baseball jersey did nothing to hide her curves and Emma thought she could stare at TOWN HALL all day long. She was doing just that when the softball flew right by her torso and landed with a thud in the catcher’s mitt.

“Strike 1,” yelled the ump.

_Shit, pay attention._

Emma took her eyes off the smirk on Regina’s face and, focus renewed, watched the ball, which was heading right for the sweet spot of her swing. Emma tightened her grip on the bat and unleashed a mighty cut, only to hear the ball hit the catcher’s mitt again. The fucking ball disappeared at the last minute.

“Strike 2.”

Emma pointed her bat at Regina. “You’re disgusting,” she laughed in mock anger. She looked over at Nolan, who nodded: “Knuckle curve.”

Regina smiled serenely. “You’re welcome, dear.”

_She is not striking me out._

Emma watched the ball leave Regina’s hand one more time and swung through, sending it down the third-base line. She sprinted for first base, beating the throw by half a step.

Regina looked over, brows raised in surprise. Emma saluted with a proud smirk.

Halfway through the game, Henry decided he was done waiting and snuck over to the police department’s bench. He was sitting proudly next to Emma, happily lapping a Popsicle, when Regina caught his eye and opened her mouth in faux shock, following with a mock scowl.

The boy giggled and his mother wound up, sending a dancing curveball toward the batter. Humbert got a piece of the ball, which was just enough to send it rocketing out of bounds toward the police bench, heading straight for Henry.

“HEADS!” Bell hollered.

Emma instinctively turned to shield the boy with her body, the ball landing smack on her left flank, square on the ribs. She hissed in pain upon contact, while Henry laughed, thinking they were playing a game. “No tickle!”

“Time!” Nolan yelled, as he and everyone on the bench descended on Emma and the boy. Regina sprinted in from of the mound. “Henry!”

“Hi, Momma!” Regina ran her hands over her son and finding him no worse for wear, approached Emma, who had tied her jersey just under her sports bra to inspect the damage; a large, angry welt was already rising on the side of her taut torso. Regina wasn’t sure what was most impressive, the swelling bruise or the rock-hard six-pack to its right.

“Wow,” Bell whistled.

Emma craned her neck, she couldn’t get a good look at the area. “That bad?”

“No, I mean your abs. _Wow_. What do you do?”

“Ah!” Emma gasped in the middle of an eye roll as Petit pressed a wet, ice-cold beer onto the welt.

“Are you in pain?” Regina looked on, worried.

“Gah! That beer is cold!”

Martha walked over and probed the area surprisingly gently with her fingers. “Mighta caught a rib. Get an X-ray.”

Looking Emma straight in the eye, Nolan ordered, “Take a deep breath.” Emma did just that and nodded. “Doesn’t hurt to breathe, doesn’t feel broken.”

“You might have cracked it, let’s get you to the ER.”

Mary-Margaret appeared out of nowhere with a bottle of ibuprofen. Emma grabbed three and chased them down with a swig of beer. “I’ll be fine. I can play.”

Emma caught Regina’s eyes and smirked. “We can’t lose to these guys.”

The brunette’s lips turned up at a corner at the cocky reply. “Seriously, are you alright?”

“I think so, it just stings right now. If I feel anything bad, I’ll sit out.”

“Thank you, Chief.” Regina shook her head in dismay. “That could have been—”

“But it wasn’t.” Both women were surprised to find Emma’s hand had landed on Regina’s arm in comfort. “Don’t, you know, worry about things that might have happened. Protect and serve, right?”

Regina smiled warmly. “Thank you.”

Emma was about to suggest the game restart when Henry cleared his throat, looked up at the two women and proudly held up an empty stick. “Got any more popsicles?”

XXXX

Later that night, Emma sat on her couch, an icepack tucked into her side. After the game, she decided to skip the trip to The Rabbit Hole and follow Martha’s advice for an X-ray. Her side had stiffened considerably and she couldn’t determine what was bruise-pain and what might be a cracked rib.

“Would you like me to take you?” Regina offered when she heard the news.

“Aw, thanks. I’ll drag Bell, she’s got nothing to do.” Emma smiled as the woman in question laughed in the background: “Hey!”

“Call me tonight, let me know what happens?” Regina’s voice was surprisingly soft and tentative with the request. “Do you have your phone?”

Emma silently produced it, watching Regina type in her contact information. “That’s my personal cell. Please call me when you can.” Emma nodded, dumbfounded, their fingers brushing as Regina handed back the phone.

The ER had been busy, and since an x-ray for a possible cracked rib ranked low on the list, Emma hadn’t been seen for hours. By the time she got home, it was later than she felt comfortable calling.

**Wasn’t sure when Henry goes to bed, didn’t want to call. No fracture. I’m OK.**

A reply followed so quickly, Emma wondered if Regina had been staring at the phone.

_Good. How is the pain?_

**I’ll live.**

_Your team played well today. Not enough to win…_

**Wow, taunting an injured player via text? That is literally insult upon injury. We came pretty close.**

_That you did. That was the closest game we’ve had all season._

**We’ll get you next summer.**

_The Popsicle fan and I will have to find a way to make it up to you._

**I would like that.**

_I’ll be in touch, good night._

**Good night.**

Emma smiled to herself. I really would like that. And therein lie the problem. I might like it too much.

 

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the last chapter I heard from a few readers who were concerned that character(s) they like may meet their demise later on down the road. I want to assure you, I never kill good guys in my stories. Thanks to Alaska829Snow for her continued awesomeness.

Emma sat at her desk desperately wishing she were getting pepper sprayed instead of staring at the spreadsheet on her laptop. The department’s draft budget for the next fiscal year was due to the Finance Committee in a month, and the new Chief had no idea how to put it together. Just when she thought she was getting into the swing of things and had her new position well in hand, _math_ had to come into play.

Now six weeks in as the head of Storybrooke law enforcement, Emma was loving everything about the job, recent mathematical developments aside. Her officers were honest and hardworking. The town’s tourist season had made an easy transition to leaf-peepers and back-to-school, and Emma found that she didn’t mind politics as much as she thought she would, especially since she got to meet weekly with the Mayor.

To the public, Regina Mills was all business. But through their weekly meetings, Emma discovered that the private woman was wry, whip smart and truly cared about her town and its residents. She wasn’t anything like the career hacks she encountered in Massachusetts; Storybrooke was not a stepping stone to something greater. For Regina, it was her home and her son’s future – and she worked hard – too hard, in Emma’s opinion – to make it the best it could be.

_“So, what do you think?” Emma leaned forward, anxious for her colleague’s opinion._

_Regina appraised the woman in front of her; Emma’s eyes were bright and she was practically vibrating over the promise of an elementary and middle school community policing initiative she had just outlined and was due to present to the School Committee that night._

_While Regina tried to remain her formal mayoral self, she was enjoying her weekly time with the Chief and found her professional façade cracking. Her meetings with Burroughs were a black hole on her calendar; the man was lazy, unorganized and uninspired, content to keep his officers writing tickets and aiding tourists. Emma, she discovered, had plans and ideas that would not only keep the town safe but also benefit its residents in many other ways. Regina realized she had found the closest thing to a professional kindred spirit in Emma Swan._

_The brunette’s voice was smooth - and warmer than she intended - as she spoke: “I think this town is very lucky to have you.”_

Eyes were darting back and forth from spreadsheet to last year’s inch-thick proposal hoping inspiration would strike when Martha’s gravelly tenor blared from the dispatch desk.

“Chief, Mayor’s here!”

Regina approached, eyes rolling in annoyance. Emma couldn’t help but grin: “Do you think I could put in for an intercom in next year’s budget?”

“I’ll pay for it myself,” she quipped as she walked through the door. And what a welcome sight it was: black trousers and a tight black vest hugging a white collared shirt straining at the third button. _Holy shit._ Emma had to hold back the instinct to whistle low and slow.

Needless to say, she was thrilled for this very beautiful, very welcome distraction. “What can I do for you today?”

“I have a problem.” Regina’s voice was serious and cool, prompting The Chief to lean forward, brow immediately furrowed in concern. “Three-year-olds can get obsessed with things,” she lectured formally with a hint of a smile.

“Three-and-a- _haff_.”

“Regardless, until recently I have had a 3-year-old obsessed with cars, trucks and trains.”

“Very common, I’m told.”

“And now I have a 3-year-old obsessed with cars, trucks, trains and the police. Especially a certain law enforcement official who has yellow hair like her car.”

Emma grinned. “Ah, I see. That young man sounds very intelligent.”

“He is.” An arched eyebrow punctuated the declaration. “You have replaced Thomas the Tank Engine, his idol. I assumed his infatuation would wane, but I am getting no reprieve.”

Faux hurt punctuated Emma’s face. “I feel like I should somehow be offended at that, but go on.”

Regina paused; Emma could practically hear her fidget. “I hesitate to ask, but would you join Henry and me for dinner? Henry would love it and I never made amends for your softball injury.”

“It was hardly an injury and it wasn’t your fault in the first place. Humbert was the batter.”

“But if I wasn’t such a skilled pitcher, he would have sent it into the outfield, not fouled it off.”

“I do like how this apology-dinner invitation has suddenly turned into a self-congratulatory commentary on your ridiculous pitching.”

Emma sat back in her chair and appraised her visitor. The normally airtight professional was trying to hide a quiver of insecurity Emma had never witnessed before; big, brown eyes softened at the corners. “Why do you hesitate?”

“I strive to maintain a professional line with the town’s employees.”

“Of course, well, I would love to join you both for dinner if you’re not too uncomfortable. Just one question, Madam Mayor: Does this mean I’m dating your son?”

Regina couldn’t suppress the laugh that escaped her throat. She stood and headed for the door. “Tomorrow night, 6 p.m.?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Emma stood and escorted Regina to the bullpen; the brunette saw herself the rest of the way out.

“Jesus, I can’t remember the last time the Mayor was in here,” Martha remarked pointedly.

Emma’s reply was short as she returned to her office: “Budget.”

XXXX

Emma had just returned from the range with Bravo shift and was prepping for a meeting with the fire chief when she felt her personal phone vibrate.

**Sorry to bother you Chief but I forgot to ask: Do you have any allergies or dietary concerns I need to know about?**

_I’m sorry, you’ve reached Emma. Emma does not have any food requirements, other than it surpass her microwave cooking skills._

**Then Emma is in for a treat.**

_May I bring something?_

**Just yourself. Don’t be late, your boyfriend is very excited to see you.**

At 5:59 p.m., Emma blew out a harsh breath and rang the bell at 108 Mifflin Street. Her meeting ran long, giving her just enough time to swing by the liquor store and grab two bottles of wine. It was either buy wine or change; she figured Regina wouldn’t mind her everyday work attire: short-sleeved, navy blue SPD polo and Dockers. Making at least one concession to off-duty life, Emma pulled out her work bun, shook out her hair and finger-brushed her curls. It wasn’t great, but it would do.

She was pondering her attire’s possible reception when she heard a distant, “Come in.” Pushing open the heavy door she found Regina holding a giggling, muddy, soaking-wet Henry at the base of the stairs.

“CHIEEEEF!”

“Do you need my cuffs?”

Regina rolled her eyes. “ _Someone_ decided to sneak out back, turn on the sprinkler and roll around in the dirt while I was making dinner.”

The boy smiled, completely unrepentant. “I’m so sorry, but I need to get him into a quick bath before dinner.” Regina looked equal parts stressed and embarrassed. “I hate to make you serve yourself, but there’s beer in an ice tub in the kitchen.” She pointed to the hallway to the right of the stairs. “We’ll be right back down.”

The response was immediate and deadpan: “I’m terribly offended.” Catching Henry’s gaze she explained. “I have a surprise for you, but only if you listen to your Mom and do exactly what she says.”

The boy stopped squirming immediately. “OK.” Regina was shocked at his instant submission.

Emma chuckled and headed for her beer. Ten minutes later, she was sitting in the parlor when she heard what sounded like a herd of buffalo tumbling down the stairs. She jumped up to investigate the commotion, only to find a stark-naked, laughing Henry running toward her. “Chieeeeeef!”

Reaching out and grabbing him under the arms, Emma held out the child like he was radioactive. A red-faced Regina followed close behind bearing a towel. “I don’t know what’s got into him,” she admitted. Both women bit their lip, trying not to laugh and encourage the boy further.

“Henry, I thought you were supposed to be listening to your Mom.” She passed the boy over, modesty restored thanks to the towel.

He shook his head, guilt heavy in his eyes. “I wanted to see you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, man. Get your clothes on, listen to Mom and we can have some fun.”

Soon a squeaky-clean Henry Mills descended the stairs in a T-shirt and tiny track pants. Regina had changed into yoga pants and a scoop-neck T-shirt, her clothes another apparent victim of the boy’s backyard escapade.

“I’m sorry I didn’t change, Pete was very chatty today,” Emma noted. Regina nodded her head knowingly. “It was either run home or wine and I opted for the latter.”

“Two bottles?” Regina raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but…”

“Very funny. I wasn’t sure what was for dinner, so I covered both bases.”

“Well, I approve, thank you.”

Emma smiled, her attention shifting when she felt a tug on her pants and a soft, “Wow.” She looked down to see Henry, reaching up to touch the gun she holstered on her waist.

“Oh, no, shoot, uh...” Regina looked like she was going to faint as she gently pried his fingers off the grip. “I was at the gun range today with some of the officers, totally forgot I had it on. You don’t happen to have a gun safe here, do you?”

The brunette’s head cocked in confusion as if Emma had asked if she had an elephant she could borrow. “No.”

“I can’t leave it in the car,” Emma thought out loud. “Oh, wait.”

She unholstered her Glock and pushed a button, releasing the clip of bullets. Emma stuffed the clip into her pocket and returned the gun to its holster.

“Next time I’ll make sure I bring a portable safe.”

Regina raised an eyebrow. “Next time?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, um…I mean…”

“Come here, Chief!”

Apparently no longer fascinated by a bullet-less weapon, Henry had run over to a large, low-set table impressively stocked with wooden tracks. “See my trains!”

“I…” Emma looked at her host for direction.

“Go,” Regina chuckled. “I’ll call you both when dinner’s ready.”

Food plated and ready to eat, Regina walked into the parlor and was about the call the pair when she saw the Chief sitting on the floor with her back to the entryway, Henry standing at attention in front of her.

“So, you know I don’t have a deputy and I could really use one. Do you think you could help me?”

The boy nodded his head enthusiastically, his eyes widening as Emma pulled out a silver toy Deputy badge from her pocket and pinned it to his shirt. “Like you and Momma!”

“Right,” Emma nodded. Regina looked on, entranced. “And every officer needs a cruiser, so here’s yours.” She dug in her pocket once more and pulled out a canary-yellow Mustang Matchbox car.

“Wow!” He grabbed it and held it up triumphantly, looking over Emma’s shoulder. “Momma! Look! Look!” he squealed.

Emma whipped her head around, unaware Regina had been watching the “ceremony.”

“Oh, hey,” she greeted, sheepishly.

“Who wants dinner?”

Henry tore out of the room, car leading the way via his outstretched arm. Emma pushed herself up onto her feet. “Ooof,” she smiled. “Gettin’ old.”

“That was really sweet, thank you.”

They walked to the dining room, Emma trying to avoid the pull of a pair of soulful brown eyes. Emma tried to joke away the sudden electricity in the room as she took her seat. “I do need a deputy. I bet he’d work for Popsicles; Nolan is such a diva.”

XXXX

After dinner, the women were enjoying coffee and more-comfortable-than-expected small talk in the parlor when Henry disappeared for a few minutes only to reappear with a book, wordlessly climb into Emma’s lap and lie back in her arms. The message was clear.

“He’s not subtle, huh?” she laughed.

“If you don’t want to…” Regina began apologetically.

“No, no. This is fine.”

“I have to admit, I’m shocked. He’s never been a cuddler with anyone but me.”

“Like I said yesterday, he’s obviously very intelligent.” Emma cleared her voice as she gave the suddenly giggling boy a little squeeze. “OK…All About Police Cars,” she announced. “One day, Officer Dan…”

Regina watched her son recline in the Chief’s strong arms, as easy as if he were lounging in his own bed. His right foot swung lazily as he listened, staring off into space and playing with the ends of Emma’s long hair twirling them around his fingers, only to let them go and watch them spring back into place.

She barely let any other adult speak to her son, let alone _hold_ him. But there was something about Emma that put the brunette – and obviously Henry – at ease. Her lips pulled up at the corners as she watched his sleepy lids start to flutter, the index and middle fingers of his right hand finding their way to his mouth. The boy shifted, snuggling in even further, as if he were trying to burrow himself into the fit torso of the blonde and out the other side. Curled into her own chair, Regina felt peacefully relaxed as she watched the scene, lulled into near-hypnosis by Emma’s narration. The tranquility was followed quickly by a thought so unexpected it nearly jolted her: She wished she could join them.

A fuzzy warmth settled over Regina’s body as her imagination took flight: Henry snuggled in Emma’s lap, Regina tucked into her side, her head on Emma’s shoulder, her face tickled by a random blonde curl. A strong arm enveloping her and pulling her close as she smells the clean, fresh scent of the woman’s skin and spies a neck she suddenly has to urge to taste and mark with her lips and tongue…

“Psst! Psst!”

A sharp hiss jolted Regina out of her daydream, as she found Emma gesturing at the sleeping boy on her lap. The brunette quickly scrambled out of her chair, as if the action would erase her daydream and restore her regular calm.

“You have a magic touch,” she whispered shakily, hoping Emma didn’t notice her red-hot cheeks.

Regina leaned well into Emma’s personal space as the transfer was made; it was close enough for them to smell each other’s shampoo and feel the exhale of twin breaths on their faces. Regina lifted Henry onto her shoulder with practiced ease and headed for the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

Emma looked at her lap, surprised to realize she missed the warm weight of Henry’s body and the sound of his rhythmic breathing. She passed the time wondering what had the boy’s mother so flustered.

“You have a way with my son unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” Regina noted as she returned, taking a chair across from her guest.

“I think he has a way with me. I’ve never been around kids much. My friends’ kids, stuff like that. I used to do a lot of school programs, career day, jazz like that. With work, if I was around and they had a situation with a scared kid or something, they sent me in.”

“Because you’re a woman?”

“I think so, but that was a dumb assumption on their part. Nearly everyone else in the troop was married and had kids, I was OK, but they were much better with children. The work with the kids killed me, I carried it for days.”

Regina leaned forward, her colleague had never mentioned specifics of her last job. “I would rate you much higher than ‘OK.’ What situations did you run into?”

She watched Emma’s eyes squint at the memory. “Car accidents, drunk driving, abuse, terrible stuff. Anytime I had to separate a child from his parents, it was horrible.”

“I can’t imagine,” Regina breathed.

“Luckily, that’s something Henry will never know. You’re raising a wonderful child. I give single parents all the credit – it’s the hardest job in the world. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I’ve never known any different, I suppose that’s a silver lining.”

Emma winced as she inadvertently waded into a touchy subject. “I’m sorry.”

Regina nodded, “Thank you.” Eager to change the subject, she asked, “What were you parents like?”

Emma snickered mentally. _Out of the frying pan and into the fire._ “Nonexistent. According to my file, my father abandoned my mother when she was pregnant. She raised me for two years and then died. I went into the system.”

Regina was horrified. “What happened to your mother?

“She was an alcoholic, drove into a telephone pole one night after last call. It was a different time, much less support and resources to battle addiction, you know? But, like you said, I never knew any different. You don’t miss what you never had.”

Regina was dying to know what happened to Emma in the system, how she had risen from humble, rootless beginnings to achieve such success. But those were questions for another day. The grandfather clock chimed, breaking the short silence.

“9 o’clock? I gotta go, you have work in the morning,” Emma winked. She rose and began to head out of the parlor when her host’s smooth voice stopped her in her tracks.

“I meant to ask you a question,” Regina began tentatively. “We’re heading into budget season. I know you’ve never done one before. Would you like some help?”

Emma’s face split into a huge smile. “Yes! Thank God. I was going to ask. I have a general idea, but I could use your help determining the contract increases, benefit raises, the union stuff. And I have no idea how to estimate the amortization of the new cruiser.”

“I can help with all of it. Perhaps we could meet after hours once a week until your draft is complete? I don’t want to take up your spare time, but I’m already out 1 to 2 nights a week for meetings, I’d hate to miss more bedtimes with Henry. If we met over here I wouldn’t have to get a sitter and you could see your boyfriend.”

“I’d invite you over to my place but I think Henry would find it boring. No trains.”

“We could just do it in your car, he’d love _that_.”

Emma laughed, trying to forget she heard Regina utter the phrase: _We could just do it in your car._ “Deal - but on one condition. No dinner.”

The blonde wished she could take back her words when she saw the hurt in Regina’s eyes. “Why?”

“Because you’ve already got so much going on. I can’t ask you to cook for me once a week.”

“I reluctantly agree, but I will find a loophole.”

Emma grinned and paused in the doorway. “Thank you. I really enjoyed myself.”

“I did as well. Good night.”

Emma jogged down the brick walkway to the car. The temperatures were already dropping into cool, crisp fall and she didn’t have a coat; she could feel the goose pimples rise on her arms. She started the cruiser and cranked the heater, offering a wave at Regina, who was still in the doorway watching her leave.

Emma drove home, trying to remember the last person who asked about her parents and when. Regina closed her front door, flipped the lock and set the alarm, wondering when she last cared enough to watch someone leave from her doorway. Both pondered what that meant, but were too afraid to follow the thought very far.

XXXX

“OK, how does this look?”

Seated side by side at the dining room table, Regina leaned over to peer at the spreadsheet open on Emma’s laptop.

She tapped a perfectly manicured nail at the middle of the screen. “I think that cell is wrong, wait…” Grabbing a stack of papers bound with a heavy alligator clip, she flipped until she found the information she needed. “Here you go. Add $28,900 to F4.”

Emma did just that and hit Enter, watching the bottom-line figure on the spreadsheet turn from red to green. “It’s green!” the Chief cheered quietly, aware Henry was sleeping just one floor away. She turned to Regina with a wide smile and held her hand in the air. Regina looked at her quizzically.

“Don’t leave me hangin’,” Emma whined with a grin. The brunette still looked puzzled.

“Seriously?” Emma grabbed Regina’s right wrist, lifted her hand in the air and smacked it against her right. The hand was as soft and warm as her palm; long, elegant fingers collided with Emma’s. “You’ve never given a high-five before? You play softball! How is that possible? Oh, my God…”

“I thank you not to mock me,” Regina grinned. “Of course, I have. I was confused as to your intention.” She held up Emma’s empty wine glass. “Another?”

“I have to drive home. I’ll take a water, though.”

“Done.” Regina sauntered out of the room while Emma admired the view and thought about how much she had learned about the Mills family over the past three weeks.

In addition to the fact Regina was severely lacking in celebratory hand gestures, Emma had discovered Henry was a light sleeper and sucked his fingers when he was tired; his mother could be swayed by high-quality dark chocolate (“It’s an antioxidant!” she justified); she kept a box of wine in her refrigerator (“If you ever tell anyone, I will fire you.”); and she would break a promise if it meant she got to feed someone.

Despite the fact Regina pledged she would not cook Emma dinner for their weekly budget-prep tutorials, every week a meal just happened to be waiting when the blonde arrived.

“I didn’t make dinner for _you_ ,” Regina explained smugly. “You specifically requested I do not. However, we just happen to be running late, would you like to join us?”

Emma didn’t mention the fact that the table was already set for three people, nor that the Mills family dinner seemed to mysteriously run late every time Emma was visiting. The next week, she began retaliating by showing up to each meeting bearing an expensive chocolate bar and a box of Franzia: “The sitter is gong to think I’m an alcoholic, you realize.”

Given Emma had never taken accounting or any business courses in college, she was eternally grateful Regina had made her inaugural budget proposal as easy as possible. She knew how to take down a person tripping on ecstasy, but Excel? Forget it.

“Chief?” Emma snapped to and found Regina offering a glass of water and a confused look. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about how grateful I am for your help.” Sleek, black hair dipped low as Emma swore she saw a touch of pink grace Regina’s cheeks. “I mean it. You’ve been so gracious with your time and your home; I truly appreciate it.”

Emboldened, she caught brown eyes and held them: “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“What are we?”

Regina didn’t know what to say, stunned silent by the unexpected question.

“Would you say we’re friends?”

“Of…of course. Yes.”

“Do you think you could call me Emma?” The blonde smiled warmly. “You’ve cooked for me, I’ve brought you secret, cheap wine, your son’s fallen asleep on me. I know you want to maintain a professional relationship with town employees, but ‘Madam Mayor’ seems way too formal outside Town Hall and I just don’t think you’d appreciate ‘Hey, you.’ ”

Regina now blushed outright. “Outside of work? Yes,” she smiled. “Yes, I will.”

“May I call you Regina?”

“Please do.”

Emma’s eyes sparkled at the response. “Thank you, _Regina_. I like that.” She shifted in her seat and pointed to her screen. “So, is this ready to go to the Finance Committee? I can e-mail it over?”

“Yes, you can. Congratulations, Che—” Regina caught herself and started again. “Congratulations, _Emma_.”

The blonde raised her glass and gently clinked it against Regina’s, “To a good teacher…you do know how to do a toast, right?”

Regina playfully smacked her colleague on the arm.

“Ow!”

XXXX

“Mornin’, Ruby.”

“Hey, Chief.”

Emma took a seat at the counter and gratefully sipped the coffee that seemed to appear instantaneously. She had no idea how the woman poured that fast.

“How many times do I have to remind you to call me Emma?” She had successfully lobbied Regina to drop the honorific outside work, maybe she could get Ruby on board, too. “You don’t work for me. You can call me Emma.”

“I know, force of habit. I sure as hell wasn’t gonna call Burroughs ‘Edgar’,”  
she snorted.

Sneaking a quick peek to ensure Granny wasn’t watching, she leaned on the counter. “Graham and I are having our annual end-of-summer party this weekend, we want you there.”

Emma’s brown narrowed in confusion. “It’s October.”

“ _Mid_ -October. The leaves haven’t fallen – that’s still summer here. C’mon, it’s fun. We get a keg, grill, eat way too much. Everyone from the department comes, other friends in town, too, everyone brings their families, the kids run around until they pass out. Whaddaya say? Graham’s gonna ask you at shift change this afternoon, I figured I’d beat him to it.”

Ruby could practically see the gears turning in the Chief’s head. “You need some R&R,” she insisted. “According to my spies, no one’s seen you around town for fun, which means you work all the time. How are you going to find Mr. Right?” Ruby smiled wide, the fire-engine-red lipstick making her white teeth even more brilliant.

 _Here’s your chance_ , Emma thought. Since she moved to Storybrooke, no one had inquired whether she had a boyfriend or asked her out. Historically, she found that subject was always the easiest way to casually out herself without a big production. The Chief knew Ruby stored and shared more information than the Internet; this was the perfect opportunity. _Here goes nothing…_

“It would be Ms. Right, actually,” she noted with a wink.

“Ha! _I knew it_. Yes!” Ruby pumped her fist in triumph.

“Excuse me?”

“I _knew_ you were gay.”

Emma laughed. “You set me up?”

“No one told me, I just figured.”

“And how’d you do that?

“Honey, you ping louder than a fire alarm. But I have great gaydar. My brother’s gay, lives down in Portland with his husband.”

“Ah, is that why…” Emma gestured to the rainbow flag that flew next to Old Glory above the front door.

“You bet. Love is love. Granny only cares if your money is green. So, you comin’ or not? You need to get out and meet people as Emma, you know. Not as _the Chief_. Make some friends, have some fun.”

“Hey, I have friends. I’m friends with my officers.”

“They work for you, doesn’t count.”

“I’m friends with Henry Mills.”

“He’s 3.”

“And Regina.”

“You’re friends with Regina? Get out.” This was news. “Wait, she lets you _call_ her Regina?” Regina Mills, as far as Ruby could tell, no longer had friends. She was professional and polite, but had no time for anything – or anyone – outside her work and her son.

“It’s true. She’s funny and smart. I don’t know why she has this rep.” Emma couldn’t quite describe the reaction others had toward the Mayor.

“Yeah, I know, it’s hard to find the right word. She’s not cold, but it’s like she’s got this shell. I grew up with her and she was a lot of fun – when she wasn’t around her parents. Her Dad was alright, kinda quiet. But her mother, Jesus, what a snooty bitch. After Daniel was killed, it was like she just withdrew into this, like, cocoon of motherhood and work.”

“I’d imagine that would be easy to do – those things you can control.”

“I don’t know how she does it, honestly. Hunter is a full-time job and I have Graham. It must be so goddamn lonely and exhausting for her. Single mothers are saints.”

“Is she coming to the party?”

“I try to get her to come out, have a playdate with me and Hunter, go out for drinks – anything - and she turns me down, nicely, every time. I stopped asking. But I’ll see her today at preschool pickup – Henry and Hunter are in the same class. I’ll give it a go. But _you’re_ coming right?”

Emma dropped her chin to her chest in mock defeat. “All right, all right. You win. What can I bring?”

“Yourself. We’ve got it all covered.”

Emma was about to concede when she had a thought and grinned, a cheeky glint in her eye. “Say, how big is your backyard?”

XXXX

**_Police, students bond over lunch_ **   
_Inside the new community policing project_   
_By Sidney Glass_

_If your child comes home and tells you the police were at school today, don’t be alarmed – it’s part of a new community policing initiative._

_Approved at the last School Committee meeting, the pilot program has an officer join students for lunch once a week at the Storybrooke Elementary and Middle School cafeterias._

_“We’re having a lot of fun meeting the students and getting to know them in a casual setting,” said Lt. David Nolan. “Plus, we’re always invited on pizza day!”_

_“It’s important the children understand we’re part of their community and not ‘scary’,” Officer Shannon Bell added. “We hope the time we spend with them will show kids they can trust us, be our friends and come to us if they are in trouble or need help.”_

_Storybrooke Elementary School Principal Kathryn Midas said the project goes a long way toward building a healthy bond between town law enforcement and young residents. “I’m thrilled the department is reaching out to our students in such a positive way,” Midas said. “So far the pilot has been a great success; the students love spending time with them.”_

_Midas said she hopes to work the Police Department further to develop an anti-bullying program._

Regina couldn’t suppress a grin after she finished the article. While the new chief wasn’t mentioned, the project had her fingerprints all over it. Emma told her how she’d seen it in action in other communities and shared how she thought it would be a great fit in town. She caught herself smiling, remembering how excited Emma was after presenting it to the School Committee and receiving initial approval. It was the sign of a good leader: giving her employees the tools to take the lead – and the spotlight.

Given her history, Regina should have disliked the new Chief. Emma Swan was smart, accomplished and confident, and up until two months ago, those three adjectives in Storybrooke were reserved solely for Regina Mills. The Mayor was used to being the most prominent female in town, but now she was sharing the honors with the new police chief. The most surprising aspect: Regina didn’t mind a bit. Instead of being jealous, she was intrigued.

Regina was surprised to find herself looking forward to Emma’s weekly budget visits, Lord knows Henry’s week revolved around it. Had it been so long since she had a friend? She enjoyed cooking for the woman and found herself enjoying their “accidental” dinners. And her rapport with Henry? Regina chuckled to herself. Normally she would feel threatened, except it was obvious Emma was not trying to impress, but rather just being herself. Henry adored her just the way she was; Regina couldn’t blame him.

_“Bedtime.”_

_“Awww, Momma.”_

_“I got him.” Emma stood up and cast a conspiratorial glance at the boy. “Want a ride?”_

_Henry looked confused until Emma turned her back to him and urged, “Hop on.” He did, wrapping his arms tightly around her neck, his legs gripping her abdomen like a monkey. “Ack, little man, loosen your grip.”_

_Emma readjusted him once more before trotting over to the stairs and bounding up as Henry giggled and shrieked on her back. Regina followed close behind. “You’re setting quite the bar,” she admonished with a smile._

The thing was, Regina didn’t mind. At all.

XXXX

Three hours later, Ruby walked up to the side door of Stepping Stones preschool, awaiting the morning class’ dismissal with a handful of other parents.

“Hey, Regina, how’s it going?”

The brunette turned, surprised at the greeting. She usually only merited a nod of recognition or a quick “Hi” in passing.

“I’m doing well, thank you. How does Hunter like preschool?”

Ruby smiled at the thought of her son’s excitement on Tuesdays and Thursdays. “He’s lovin’ it. Henry?”

“The same,” she noted with a soft smile. “I get the daily rundown of who was the helper, what they had for snack, what Miss Judy read for a book. It’s lovely.”

Ruby paused for a second, unsure how to transition into her question, but in her own true style, she simply barreled straight ahead.

“Say, we’re having our summer’s-end party this weekend. Would you like to come? There will be a bunch of kids there so Henry will have friends to play with.”

Regina’s response was so automatic it nearly left her lips before Ruby finished the question. “Oh, thank you. But I don’t—”

“The Chief will be there. She doesn’t really know anyone outside of the department, I’d hate for her to feel like an outsider. You know her - it’d be nice for her to have someone she can talk to – if we can get Henry to leave her side.” Both women snickered at the statement’s truth.

“Alright, that would be nice. Thank you.”

Ruby smiled, she could feel something she hadn’t felt in a while when it came to interactions with Regina – sincerity.

“Would you do me a favor? I always loved your potato salad. I hate to impose, but could you bring some?”

Regina’s smile mirrored Ruby’s and she felt a tiny, surprising spark of happy anticipation. “I’d love to.”

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

Even if Regina didn’t know where Graham and Ruby lived, it would be easy to tell: Follow the line of parked cars, the joyful squeals of children, music and what sounded like a generator. She balanced a large bowl of potato salad in one arm and held Henry’s hand in the other, a tight ball of nerves threatening; it had been so long since she had been to such a gathering. The last time she had been to Graham and Ruby’s party she was pregnant with Henry. She smiled at the memory: Daniel drank far too much of whatever homegrown swill was brewed by one of the officers; she and her husband spent the following morning alternating turns vomiting in the bathroom for completely different reasons.

“C’mon, Momma! C’mon!” Henry tugged, straining at her grip so he could get to the source of what sounded like fun 10 seconds faster. They walked around the side of the small Cape and into the backyard: One-third of the surprisingly large yard was occupied by an inflatable bouncy house, which was quivering with the rhythmic jumps of laughing children. “Momma!” Henry was practically panting as he eyed the amusement and threatened to tear her arm out of its socket.

Regina was wondering where to drop the salad when Ruby appeared out of nowhere, relieving her of the heavy bowl. “Regina,” she smiled. “Hey, Henry! We’re so glad you’re here. Hunter’s in the bouncy house, do you wanna go?”

The boy’s eyes practically bugged out as he shot a laser-like plea at his mother. “Please!”

“There’s only little ones in there,” Ruby informed, expertly reading the worry on Regina’s face. “He won’t get squashed. The guys are lifeguarding, anyway.” She pointed to Graham and another man talking by the entrance.

“Well, alright, I— Henry!” The minute Regina loosed her grip a millimeter the boy was off, sprinting toward the house. She watched Graham greet him with a smile, take his shoes and hoist the boy into the entrance. Henry was immediately jumping like a maniac and waving in excitement.

Regina couldn’t fight the grin. “I don’t remember _that_ the last time I was here.”

“Crazy, I know. The Chief rented it.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, she is not.” Emma sidled up to the women with a smirk.

“You’re responsible for that monstrosity?”

“Pardon me? I’m offended. That’s the best idea ever.” She pointed to the shaking house with her beer hand. “The kids jump for, like, 6 hours straight and sleep for days while Mom and Dad can eat and drink in peace. I should be issued a commendation.” The blonde smirked, sipping her beer victoriously.

Ruby watched the easy rapport between the two women and felt an undertow so strong she wondered if they were blind stupid or had the willpower of cloistered monks. “Well, I think it’s great.” She turned to Regina. “And you will, too, when Henry falls asleep on the ride home and doesn’t get up until 9 a.m. tomorrow. C’mon,” she urged, tugging Regina by the arm. “You need food and drink.” Grabbing Emma, she ordered, “You, too. You gotta try her potato salad. _Holy God_.”

Ten minutes later, Emma was doing just that, seated around a fire pit that was taking the slight chill out of the crisp mid-fall air. Seated next to Regina, Emma was barely fighting off the temptation to talk through a mouth full of food.

“Ruby wasn’t kidding, this is amazing,” she moaned. “Is there bacon in this?”

Regina smirked, slightly embarrassed by her friend’s enthusiasm. “Do you want to be alone with your food?”

“Very funny. I do feel the need to just steal the whole bowl and set it in my lap for the day.”

“ _Oh my God_ , you’re here! I can’t believe you’re here!” Kathryn Midas walked over and leaned down to hug the brunette. “Ruby told me you were coming, but I thought she was lying, per usual.”

“I heard that!”

“Well, she _can_ be rather persuasive.”

“Chief, nice to see you.”

Emma raised her beer in salute while she swallowed a mouthful of potato salad. “Please call me Emma,” she smiled, offering her hand. “Good to see you again.”

Kathryn grabbed an empty chair on the other side of Regina. A plastic glass of wine appeared in her hand as Ruby waltzed by without stopping. “Great wait staff at this party.”

Ruby offered a smirk over her shoulder. “Jam it, Midas.”

“I hate to talk shop, but I wanted to thank you in person for the lunch program.” The principal leaned toward Emma, beaming. “The kids are loving it. It’s only been a few weeks but it’s been so fantastic already.”

“I read the story in the paper,” Regina added, catching Emma’s gaze. “Well done. Emma is apparently a master at making improvements all over town, even cookouts.” Regina cocked her head at the bouncy house.

“You did that?” Kathryn’s brows climbed skyward, half-impressed, half-amused.

“I can’t take credit for the idea. A buddy of mine used to rent one for his cookouts and said it was the best money he ever spent for any party. I thought it would be fun for the kids.”

“And here I thought Ruby had finally gone over the edge.”

The party in question, several feet away eyeing a bocce match, chimed in, “ _I’m not deaf, lady_.”

Emma sat back and continued to enjoy her food while she watched Regina catch up with Kathryn, a friend with whom she apparently hadn’t talked in quite a while. It was the most unguarded, relaxed and casual she’d even seen the Mayor. Even at their budget tutorials in the woman’s own home, she was dressed for work – heels and all. But here she wore jeans, a sweatshirt and sneakers, her clothing as relaxed as her attitude.

Emma imagined walking up behind Regina and hugging her, lacing her arms around her abdomen and pulling her close, tucking her head in the crook of Regina’s neck. The brunette’s clothes would be soft, but her body underneath firm. Emma would revel in the resistance her arms would feel as she squeezed gently, inching her clasped forearms up just enough so they would lightly brush the underside of Regina’s mesmerizing chest. Her girlfriend would squeal with surprise, then laugh and turn her head to grab Emma lips in a soft kiss, powerless against the blonde’s charms and happily content at that fact.

Regina and Kathryn caught her staring, wondering why the blonde was absentmindedly grinning.

“Emma...Emma?”

“Oh.” _Shit, busted._ “Oh, sorry,” she grinned sheepishly. “This salad has put me in a trance. I’m going to guard that bowl.”

Kathryn stood to join her. “You’re going to have to fight me for it. I can’t remember the last time she made that.”

The cookout slid easily into the early evening. The kids kept jumping, the adults continued eating and drinking, interrupting both with intermittent games of horseshoes and bocce. Regina smiled watching Emma and Bell taunt - then take on - overnight officers Anderssen and Davis in horseshoes. For her part, Regina got a chance to reacquaint herself with old friends and acquaintances she’d only seen in passing or at town events. It was far less awkward – and much more pleasurable - than she had expected.

She watched - half-fascinated, half-puzzled - as Emma bent over to pick her horseshoe up off the ground. _How on earth does she get those pants on?_ Kathryn looked on surreptitiously, watching her friend unabashedly check out the Chief’s ass, then stare at her glass of wine as if it held the answer or were the culprit. Kathryn made a mental note to dig into this fascinating development later.

“You look like you’re having fun,” Emma observed, taking a seat fresh off a narrow loss to her colleagues. She laughed as Bell grumbled past, heading for the cooler.

Regina smiled, sincerely. “I am. It’s very nice.”

“It is, and we haven’t even seen Henry in two hours.”

“Oh my God!” Regina gasped. The blonde was right. Whether it was good conversation or a series of glasses of wine she suddenly couldn’t number, she had completely forgotten about her son, for the first time ever.

“Relax,” Emma laughed, placing her hand on Regina’s forearm. “He’s fine. He’s eaten. He’s back in the bouncy house.”

“How?” Regina looked confused as to how the boy could possibly find sustenance without her.

“I fed him.”

Emma barked out a belly laugh at her friend’s shocked face. “Do you think I’m that incompetent? You were busy talking to someone and all the kids were sitting down and getting fed. I got him a hot dog – cut up super tiny, thank you – some salad, potato chips and a beer.”

“Emma!”

“Kidding, Regina, _God_ ,” she laughed, tears threatening to leak out of the corner of her eyes. She dropped her voice to a whisper as she noted Regina’s brown eyes were glassy and she seemed to be working too hard to follow their conversation. “How much have you had to drink?”

The brunette looked down, rueful. “Too much, I’m afraid. I was going to ask you to drive us home.”

“No problem. You tell me when you want to leave.” A naughty smile crossed Emma’s face. “Do you think it’s because you’re actually drinking good wine and not swill out of a box?”

Regina giggled and smacked her friend’s arm, then looked away. “Hey.” Emma tugged on her sweatshirt sleeve to get her attention. “C’mon, there’s nothing wrong with having a good time. We’ll quietly make an exit; no one will know I’m driving you home, if that’s what you’re worried about. Hell, everyone here’s pretty much drunk off their ass, they’ll probably pass out before we leave.”

Regina chuckled and patted Emma’s hand, which was still resting on her forearm. “Thank you. Today has been a lot of fun. And thank you for taking care of Henry.”

“Anytime,” she smiled. “He’s awesome and you need a break, you know? Doing everything 24-7 has to be exhausting.”

“It is,” she affirmed. Emma wasn’t sure if Regina was admitting the truth to herself or talking to her. “It is.”

A half-hour later, the sun had fully set, the fire pit now the glowing center of attention for those in the circle of camp chairs. The clink of horseshoes and random cheers of bocce players overpowered the intimate conversations taking place around the fire.

A few hearty souls were still bouncing, but most had taken up residence in their parents’ laps around the fire, the flickering flames hypnotizing young, tired eyes. Henry was threatening to nod off when Regina caught Emma’s gaze. The intimacy, warmth and familial nature of the environment were intoxicating. Their eyes held each other in wonder and naked allure in the dim light; the pull was so intense Emma felt short of breath and Regina’s chest flushed with warmth. The brunette snapped out of their joint reverie first thanks to a loud pop from the fire and nodded at the fading boy, her message clear: It was time to go.

When Regina stood and put Henry down to retrieve her salad bowl, the boy’s arms immediately shot skyward toward Emma in silent request. She smiled and gathered him into her arms. The Chief and her Deputy walked over to the bouncy house, which several adults were eyeing wickedly.

“I have the deposit on that thing. Any of you jokers take a flier and bust it, you own it,” she noted pointedly, eyeing Nolan and Bell, who collapsed into a state of drunken giggles.

Shifting the now dead-weight child in her arms, she headed for the edge of the yard where she found Regina, Ruby and Graham.

“Look what you found,” Ruby observed, raising an eyebrow.

“How did this happen?” she smiled, faking annoyance. “All Regina has to carry is an empty bowl?”

“You are coming out with me, soon,” Ruby declared, enveloping Regina in a tight hug. “You understand?”

She nodded as Graham pulled her into a one-armed hug and bussed her cheek. “I’m really glad you came.”

As Regina walked ahead, Ruby tapped Emma on her Henry-less shoulder: “You’re good for her.”

“Like I said, we’re friends.”

“ _OK._ ”

“What?”

“’Night, Chief.” Smirking, Ruby spun on a heel and headed back to the party.

Eight minutes later, the Mercedes pulled up at 108 Mifflin. Emma hopped out and unbuckled Henry from his seat, carrying him in one arm, her other hand lightly holding Regina’s elbow to ensure a smooth walk to the front door.

Regina unlocked the door and turned off the alarm only to find Henry-laden Emma looking at her expectantly. “Want me to take him upstairs?” She didn’t want to go traipsing around without permission.

“Please.”

Emma smiled as she entered Henry’s room, resplendent in a car-and-truck motif with occasional Thomas The Tank Engine posters decorating the walls. His bed sat flush against one wall, taped to which was the newspaper picture of Henry, Regina and Emma from the swearing in. She gently lowered the boy to the mattress, expecting Regina to take over, only to find the brunette sitting on the end of the bed.

“I’m a bit woozy.”

“Uh, that’s OK, just tell me what to do.”

Regina told Emma where to find the boy’s pajamas, vetoing the first two pairs the blonde pulled out. Regina undressed the boy south of the belly button while Emma took off his sweatshirt, removing wet, wrinkled fingers from his mouth. They immediately, unconsciously, returned to their home as soon as Emma released his arm. The women then worked in reverse, dressing him in a long-sleeved, two-piece train pajama set.

“I thought you said he was a light sleeper?”

“Looks like your bouncy house did the trick,” she tittered. “I’ll get on that commendation.”

“You do that.”

Emma rolled the boy off his covers, then back under, which was easier said than done given the bed rail occupying the other side of the bed. Regina hoisted herself up and slowly walked around to kiss her son’s forehead. As the brunette walked out, Emma ran her fingers through his hair and rested her hand on his warm, chubby cheek. “’Night, buddy.”

Entering the hallway from Henry’s room, Emma heard a door close. It wasn’t the bathroom, she could see the open door across the hall. That left the closed door directly across, which she deduced was Regina’s bedroom. With no other choice but to make herself at home, Emma headed for the bathroom and rustled around as unobtrusively as possible to find aspirin. She knew her friend was insanely private - she didn’t want to freak the woman out further by making it obvious she _had_ rummaged around – but the brunette was going to need some help with a possibly pounding head in the morning. Items acquired, Emma knocked on Regina’s door. “Regina, you decent?”

No response.

“I’m coming in if I don’t hear you…” she warned. If she thought Regina would freak out about the blonde seeing her upstairs bathroom, walking into her bedroom uninvited would surely induce apoplexy.

Emma grimaced; she had no choice but to go in uninvited. In her career she had seen many drunks and the damage they could accidentally do to themselves in their addled states. She had to ensure the woman was safe. Holding three aspirin and a glass of water in her left and covering her eyes with the right, she turned the knob and nudged the door open.

“Regina?”

Hearing movement off to her left, Emma peeked through the slits of her fingers and saw the brunette shuffling out of her bathroom, clad in pajamas and a tied robe. She sat as carefully as she could on the side of her bed as Emma handed over the aspirin and water, which she wordlessly consumed.

“howareyougoingtogethome?”

“I’ll call one of the guys on duty and have him give me a lift back to Ruby’s so I can grab my car.”

“Don’t have to, you can stay here.”

“Huh?” Emma’s body unexpectedly felt a chill and a spark of excitement simultaneously.

Regina’s voice was practically a mumble, her foggy brain succumbing to the siren song of the bed as she reclined onto the mattress. “Guest room, next to Henry’s.” It was tempting, too tempting.

“I should go home. Please sleep on your stomach, OK?”

Regina agreed with a soft grunt, rolled onto her chest and promptly passed out. Emma spied a pad of paper and a pen on the night table, and left a short note. She drank in the sight of the gorgeous sleeping woman for a few seconds and inhaled. She couldn’t help it, the room smelled like Regina: light and warm. With a sigh, she quietly left the room, stopping by Henry’s one more time. She walked downstairs, turned off the lights and shut the door behind her.

Standing on the front steps between two white columns, Emma dug out her phone and dialed the weekend dispatcher directly. “Dave, it’s the Chief. Who’s closest to Mifflin Street?”

XXXX

Emma walked through her front door and headed straight for the kitchen. She immediately located, then cracked, the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black she got as a going-away present, poured two fingers’ worth and plopped dejectedly on the couch.

Propping her feet on the coffee table, she turned the TV to ESPN and let the ambient sounds of a college football game – any game - wash over her, hoping the combination of mindless sports and strong alcohol would magically cleanse her of the feelings taking root.

She knew she could only be friends with Regina, just friends, but the woman was too goddamn stunning, smart and kind to keep her hopes from extending to a more intimate relationship. Those qualities, combined with their easygoing, blossoming friendship, made it impossible to ignore the pull of desire. And the kid, that loveable friggin’ boy, who looked at her adoringly with those big, brown eyes. Tonight was the perfect example, she thought. It was too easy, too familiar, too inviting to walk around that house like it was her own, tuck the child and his mother into bed, ensuring their safety and peaceful dreams. It was too natural to hold that child in her arms without a word and get aspirin for his mother. It was too effortless to play lesbian mommies, the key problem being one party wasn’t a lesbian. When Regina asked her to stay, all Emma wanted to do was ease into that king-size bed and curl herself around the town’s loneliest woman. _Hell_ , she chuckled ruefully, _I may be vying for that title myself._

It wasn’t just that Emma was crushing hard-core on a straight woman – an always fruitless, painful dilemma she had faced before. The biggest misfortune was when she looked at Regina, she saw herself: a person who seemingly had it all together but just below the surface was far more vulnerable than anyone would ever believe. Regina was too much of a kindred spirit to resist.

She was drawn to Regina and Henry like the Earth toward the blinding, blazing sun. If Emma kept circling, she would get pulled in – and that would end badly for everyone.

Emma returned to the kitchen to refill her glass and toast to a relationship that never was and never could be. She took a large sip and felt the burn down her throat, which sat just north of the ache in her heart. It was a night to mourn a relationship that never was. It was time to stop circling.

XXXX

_Regina landed with a thud, her back hitting the mattress as Emma whipped off her shirt and crawled on all fours toward her, breasts threatening to spill out of a tight black bra._

_“Regina,” she husked, hovering over the woman for a few seconds before lowering her body the length of the brunette. Regina hissed in arousal as the weight of Emma’s hips and groin pressed into hers. She shifted trying to find some friction as she watched Emma’s biceps flex._

_“No, no, no,” Emma pouted sexily. “We can’t have that Madam Mayor, can we?”_

_The pressure of breasts upon breasts, groin upon groin, was driving Regina insane. Emma lowered her lips to Regina’s ear, blonde hair curtaining them._

_“I want this. You want this. Can we have this? Can we?” The sensual whisper and hot breaths were driving Regina insane, arousal pooling in her panties and her core throbbing with need. Her entire body felt white-hot, every sense blaring at once. All she wanted to do was grab the blonde and rub herself along every single glorious inch, but she couldn’t move her arms._

_Emma’s lips parted, they were now nearly touching Regina’s, so close she could feel them move. She repeated one question over and over, grinding her groin in time against Regina’s with each query. “Can we?...Can we?...Can we?... Can w—?”_

“Momma!”

Regina woke with a gasp and a start, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. Her head – and her core – were throbbing as Henry bounded through the door.

“Mooooorning!” Henry sang, scampering onto the bed and under the covers, snuggling into her side.

Regina lay back on her pillow, two-thirds of which was now occupied by Henry.

“Good morning, love,” she groaned. She turned her head to check the time and spied a note: _You took 3 aspirin at 10 p.m. Hope you feel better today. Call you later. - Emma_

Regina spent the rest of the day anxiously waiting for a call that never came, while Emma avoided making it. Figuring a private person such as Regina might be embarrassed about getting a little drunk, Emma thought a text might be less awkward and lessen any potential shame, unearned as it was. It was 5 p.m. before she gathered the courage to pick up her cell and begin typing.

**Hey, how are you guys? Sorry I didn’t call earlier. Time got away from me.**

Emma bit her lip at the white lie. She _was_ sorry.

_We’re fine. Had a quiet day._

**Was Henry pooped?**

_Quite, thank you._

**I will clear a space on my wall for the commendation. I had fun yesterday, thanks for letting me hang out with my boyfriend, and you, of course.**

_I owe you the thanks. I’m a touch embarrassed by my behavior._

**Why? I’m a pro at rating inebriation and, believe me, you weren’t even on the scale. You had fun and I am really happy you did and that I could be there.**

_Thanks, Emma._

**Anytime**.

Separated by 2.7 miles, both women placed their phones on a table, equally sad and relieved the conversation was over.

Four hours later, Emma was slumped on her couch, dejectedly watching the Patriots on Monday Night Football and wallowing in misery, when her cell erupted:

_Fuck tha police_  
 _Comin’ straight from the underground_  
 _Young nigga got it bad 'cause I'm brown_  
 _And not the other color so police think_  
 _They have the authority to kill a minority_

A tiny beam of sunshine pierced the gray cloud over her head as N.W.A.’s classic blared. She grabbed her phone, smirking at the caller ID picture of her kissing a “shocked” Robert on the cheek. Every time she tried to change his ringtone he’d steal her phone on the sly and switch it back. She could change it now permanently without fear of a reprise, but she realized she’d miss it; it was oddly comforting in an extremely profane way.

“I’m straight outta Compton, yo!”

Emma sighed, misery quite evident in her tone. “You asshat, you’re straight outta Back Bay.”

“What’s troubling you, my White Chocolate Princess?”

Emma snorted, she knew Robert only broke out her special nickname when he could tell she was feeling down. Before she could reply, he continued. “Wait…I know. I know that sound: love life, amirite?”

“Yeah.”

“You get any since relocating to the Pine Cone State?”

“It’s Pine Tree. And, no – not that it’s any of your business.”

“Right now it most certainly is. And if you’re going without, you know what you gotta do. Stop takin’ matters into your own hands…” The giant man laughed for what Emma swore was a minute straight, “…shit, hold on, I’m OK….and find someone else’s hands, you dig?”

“ _You dig?_ Are you playing Shaft again?”

“Nah, just reconnecting with my African-American roots, watched Jackie Brown the other night.”

“Jesus, Tarantino made that. No Spike Lee?”

“Lord, no. He’s pretentious and roots for every dickbag New York team. No, thank you.”

“Anyway, yes, I need to get laid, but there are no prospects.”

“Is it known you like the ladies?”

“Word’s out, not sure how far it has traveled.”

“Well, shouldn’t be long, then. You’ve never had trouble pullin’ before.”

Emma sighed, following with a swig of beer. She could hear the echo of the football game over the connection; they were both watching. “Man, The Broncos look like shit,” she noted, far less enthusiastically than she should have. “I love it.”

Robert’s baritone rumbled over the line via a chuckle. “Yes. So you gonna tell me what’s up or just boo-hoo through this whole quarter?” The line went silent as both parties watched Brady hit his tight end in the numbers with a bullet. “Wait – _waitwaitwait_. I know: Mayor Mightyfine.”

Emma’s silence was her confirmation.

Robert crowed. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“I didn’t mean to. She’s, like, the one person in town I can’t be with, but I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“You jus wanna—”

“No, no, that’s the thing. I mean, _yes_ , I want to sleep with her. _Christ, do I want to_. But it’s more than that. I want to just _be_ with her and Henry: do shit around the house, take them places, make them dinner, go grocery shopping, whatever. I want to make them smile, I want to take care of them, just, you know, _be_ with them. This scares the shit out of me and hurts like a motherfucker at the same time. I’ve never felt this way before and I can’t do anything about it. It’s terrible.”

Now it was Robert’s turn to be stunned into silence. For the decade-plus he’d known Emma, he’d never seen her in a real relationship; he joked she was chronically unable to pronounce “U-Haul.” There were some women who lasted for a month or two; one hardy soul made it four months, but that was an anomaly. Most of his friend’s romantic endeavors were mutually beneficial one-night engagements.

“You there?” Emma asked, slightly scared by the quiet on the other end of the line.

“Fuck, girl,” he observed, concerned. “You got it bad.”

“No shit, what do I do?”

“Do I look like Ellen, woman? Hold up, just let me think.”

Emma watched Denver turn over the ball. _Yay_. She could hear the hiss of a beer opening over the line.

“Well, don’t shut her out. You still want to be her friend, right?”

“Definitely. She didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not her fault I feel this way. It’s not like she led me on.”

“Does she know you’re gay?”

“Unsure, it hasn’t come up in our conversations.”

“She hasn’t, like, tried to kiss you or jump your bones?”

“I wish. We’re just friends – and I want to be friends. It just, you know, hurts. Jesus, I sound like I’m 12 years old.” Frustrated, she flicked a bottle cap across the room, pinging it off a window.

“You sound like you’re in love.”

Emma sighed, resigned to the truth of the observation.

“You are settin’ some world-fucking-record for sighs, girl. OK, here’s your marching orders: As best you can, act situation-normal. Try to avoid spending any extra time around them, that’ll only add salt to the wound. You’re done with those extra budget meetings at her house, right?”

Emma felt a pang of loss at the reality of the statement. “Yeah.”

“Wait, you could tell her the truth.”

“Seriously? I can see it now: ‘Hey, Regina: I know you’ve pretty much shut the world out of your life and I’m maybe the first person you’ve reached out to in years. So I want to reward your shitty luck in choosing me as your friend by making this as crazy uncomfortable as possible. I’m super gay for you and I want to have your children.’ ”

“Maybe not _that_ honest. Listen, interact with her as little as possible, as normally as possible. You don’t want her to feel like she did something wrong.”

“Right.”

“Then go to wherever you can find some ladies of the same persuasion who are down to party and get laid. That should take the edge off.”

“That’s your prescription: get laid?”

“Can’t hurt.”

Emma placed her empty bottle on the end table and laid her head back against the couch. “True.”

XXXX

Tuesday dawned cruel as it always does after a long weekend. Kathryn left her house earlier than normal to make a special swing by Granny’s before school.

“Mrs. Humbert,” she greeted formally, taking a seat at the counter for a quick cup.

“Ms. Midas.”

“Quite the party Sunday.” Kathryn smirked as she took a much-appreciated first sip.

“It was. Glad you could make it.” The brunette eyed her friend expectantly, wondering if they were on the same wavelength.

“Interesting fireworks display.”

Ruby raised a single eyebrow. They were. “You noticed, too?”

“How could you miss it?”

“I think the parties in question may be doing just that.”

Kathryn leaned forward grinning like a Cheshire cat. “I don’t think they are at all, more like they don’t know how to proceed.”

“Can’t say I blame them. Plus, one of them, you know, isn’t gay.”

Adding another sugar packet, the principal grinned, stirring her coffee. “Well, I think that’s up for debate, don’t you?” Dying to share her theory, she muttered, “There is a way.”

“Huh?”

“They _can_ be together despite their jobs.”

“Get the fuck out,” Ruby whispered excitedly.

“Want to help?”

The waitress’ red lips parted in a wide grin. “More than anything.”

 

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

"OK, we're clear?"

Emma faced the Alpha and Bravo shifts as she pointed to the whiteboard in the station's meeting/break room.

"Halloween night, Town Hall, 6 to 8 o'clock. Bravo's on patrol as usual; Bell, Nolan and I are at Town Hall. Bell: You and I are checking kids' candy. Nolan, you're on the allergy table." Both officers nodded.

Petit laughed darkly. "You sure you don't want me to check the kids' candy?"

"If I wanted razor blades inserted _into_ the candy, then yes." Emma smirked. "Otherwise, no."

"More like he'd steal all the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups."

"Keep going, Tink. Keep going," the stout man warned with a sneer.

"Anything else we need to worry about?"

Humbert jumped in. "Nah, just the usual junk. Maybe an egging. A TP'd house or two. Nothing major. We're not Detroit."

"And thank God for that. Other business?"

"Yeah, you're subbing for me at the elementary school tomorrow. Lunch program," Nolan reminded. "I've got court."

"Right, yes." Emma nodded her head as if she were trying to physically lodge the memory into her temporal lobe, then turned to Bell. "Don't let me forget that."

"Got it."

"Hey, Bell, you've got something on your nose," Petit taunted.

The blonde officer remained silent, pretending to wipe something out of her eye with her middle finger.

"Alright, children, settle down. We done?"

Met with silence, Emma was left with two words and a chuckle: "Get out."

Halloween was in two days, which meant it would be 48 hours until she saw Regina and Henry again. It had been two-and-a-half weeks since the cookout and Emma's painful decision to put a little distance in between herself, Regina and Henry. She didn't think it had been too obvious. She was able to cite work when Regina offered her two invitations to dinner; turning them down nearly killed her. The women continued to meet weekly for their regular updates in the Mayor's office; the tone was friendly, but professional as always. Regina sensed something was off with her friend and colleague, but she couldn't put her finger on it. They seemed to talk about Henry just as much as they did town business.

_"Your boyfriend misses you," Regina noted at the end of their last meeting, returning papers and notes back into folders and stacking them neatly in a pile._

Just him? _was on the tip of Emma's tongue, but she forced it back in at the last second._ No, _she scolded herself._ No.

_"I miss him. I've been so busy."_

_"Will we see you on Halloween?"_

_Emma smiled, God, she wanted to see them more than anything. "I'll be at Town Hall."_

_Regina nodded enthusiastically, polishing off the last sip of her mid-morning pick-me-up. "Yes. How has the response been?"_

_"Sounds like we're going to get a lot of kids. Folks are still scared someone's going to mess with their kids' candy; I can't blame them. And the allergy parents always like a second set of eyes."_

_Smiling broadly, Regina stood and followed Emma to the door. "Your community policing efforts have been…" As she searched for the right word, her eyes grabbed Emma's and held them. "Amazing," she breathed._

_Emma felt a jolt of arousal rocket to her groin and spark like a flare. "I…thank you. I'll see you on Halloween?"_

_"Of course."_

Bell watched her boss walk back into her office and tried to think up an excuse for a conversation. The Chief hadn't seemed like herself lately. Sure, she looked and acted normal, but Bell could tell something was off. When she laughed, the smile didn't reach her eyes. Her dumbass brother officers wouldn't know something was wrong unless the Chief collapsed in the bullpen wailing in sorrow. But a woman? She could tell something was bothering the blonde.

Bell popped her head in the doorway and knocked to get Emma's attention. "One quick question. If the candy-checking begins at six, what time do you want me there?"

Emma tilted her head in thought. "There's hardly any setup. Maintenance said they'll have tables ready for us; we just need to bring a trash bag for anything questionable and some of those safety pamphlets and the stickers. Quarter till six good?"

"Yeah, thanks…Hey, I have a class tonight at the gym, but I'm out by eight. Want to go grab a drink after?"

A sad grin crossed her face as she appraised her officer; she could easily read the subtext. Apparently she wasn't as good at disguising her emotions as she thought; Emma spotted the slight wrinkle of concern and uncertainty in Bell's eyes.

"I'm not feeling it tonight, to be honest, but I do want to come take your class soon. I need a few pointers."

"Sure you can keep up?"

Emma hooted at the woman's joking bravado. Bell began to leave when she was halted by an almost-nervous-sounding salutation: "Hey, Shannon?"

She stopped and turned, wide-eyed. The Chief had never called her by her first name before.

"Thanks."

Bell nodded. "Anytime."

XXXX

Emma shifted uncomfortably as she rose from the lunch table, her nightstick banging on the table. The combination of the pint-sized furniture and her regular-duty uniform, which she currently didn't wear that regularly, was conspiring against her. She couldn't believe how quickly she'd gotten used to not wearing a patrol uniform everyday; it felt strange to wear a standard duty belt again.

"You OK there?"

Emma turned her head and followed the voice to a very tall, very fit brunette.

"Yeah," she laughed. "Can't you tell by my smooth exterior that I run the police in this town?"

The woman glided over and extended a hand with a warm smile and electric blue eyes.

"I'm Liz. Liz McKenzie."

Emma took the offered hand and met it with her own. "Emma Swan, nice to meet you. Big fan of the cuisine?" She cocked her head toward the school's kitchen, where hairnet-headed women prepped food for the final lunch wave.

"Ah, yes. I love Pizza Day. But I'm here on an official capacity: lunch duty. When I'm not handing out stickers for good girls and boys who eat their lunches quietly and neatly, I also teach first grade."

"That must be amazing."

The teacher chuckled. "That's one word for it. So…chief of police, huh?"

She slowly ran her eyes from the soles of Emma's boots all the way up to her forehead, missing very little in between. Emma swallowed, she felt like a gazelle being sized up by a lion from 50 feet. She couldn't remember the last time someone outside of a bar checked her out so brazenly.

"That is correct." Emma had to force her voice to remain calm and smooth and not crack like a 13-year-old boy. A faint tingle of excitement began in her stomach; it had been far too long since she'd been on the receiving end of a good leer from an attractive woman.

The women stood side by side in the empty cafeteria staring out into the rows of vacant tables, the clank of serving trays and silverware only heightening the crackling silence in the air. The last lunch period was 5 minutes away.

"So, what do you do when you're not policing?"

Emma was starting to wonder if she was going to get jumped on the spot. Usually she did the asking, the pursuing. It was novel – and a bit thrilling – to be the prey.

"Not much, it's been pretty much work all the time."

"Do you think you could pull yourself away from the mean streets of Storybrooke for a night out?"

Surprise vanished and confidence restored, Emma turned and caught blue eyes, raising an eyebrow.

"And what did you have in mind?"

"Dinner. A movie."

Emma narrowed her eyes flirtatiously. "That sounds nice."

Liz stuck out her hand. "Give me your phone." Emma handed it over without question, quickly wondering why and thanking God the woman didn't ask for her gun.

"I assume you're busy tomorrow night," she continued, typing into Emma's cell.

"Yeah, candy check at Town Hall." _What is it with these women and typing on my phone?_

The teacher finished and handed the cell back to Emma, ensuring their fingers touched. "And what if I need to be…checked?"

Emma laughed out loud, holy Christ this woman was brazen. But hot, crazy hot. _Shit, I hope she's not literally crazy._ She made a mental note to check with Ruby.

"That could be arranged, say, Friday night?"

"Forty-eight hours? I suppose I can wait that long." The teacher turned, preparing to start her rounds monitoring tables as the bell rang. "Text me your address, I'll pick you up." The brunette sauntered away slowly, her ass filling out a pair of dress slacks just so. She looked over her shoulder and winked at the smirking officer.

Emma headed for the caf entrance, ready to high-five the students as they walked in. She felt like high-fiving herself.

_If this woman's going to be eye-fucking me all lunch, I won't make it._ She smiled to herself. _But what a way to go._

XXXX

"Ru- _bay_ ," Emma sang cheerfully, taking a seat at the counter. "Happy Halloween."

"Well, it is for you, apparently. I thought you police types disliked this holiday."

Ruby appraised her friend, who was in a far better mood than as of late. Since the cookout, Emma had lost some power off her fastball and was definitely - if you looked closely - subdued. She guessed it had to do with a certain Mayor and her son.

The waitress had been poking and prodding gently here and there, trying to determine the situation. They were friends, but not so close yet that she could simply demand, "What the fuck is bothering you, woman?" Kathryn had that leeway with Regina; Ruby had not earned such – yet – with Emma. The collaborators agreed they had to proceed slowly and carefully lest they spook either woman. The last Ruby heard from Kathryn was that Emma had been busy at work and had to turn down the last couple of dinner invitations from Regina. And now this: happy Emma. _Maybe she finally accepted one?_

"Eh, shouldn't be bad here. So, tell me…" She lowered her voice to a near whisper, even though the stools on either side were empty. "What do you know about Liz McKenzie?"

_Shit_. Ruby tried to look calm, masking her true reaction.

"Teaches at the elementary school. Lives over on Marine Drive, cute condo complex. Gay. And I assume has expressed an interest in you?"

"You could say that. She wasn't very subtle."

The waitress snickered, sliding a bear claw in front of the officer. "She isn't. She's extremely determined. She headed up the new playground project a couple of years ago. Organized all the fundraisers, ran the committee meetings, you name it. Super efficient, smart, gets things done, but nicely, you know? A great teacher, I hear. When she wants something, she goes for it."

Chuckling through a mouthful of pastry, the blonde nodded. "I got that impression."

"So you were on the receiving end of Liz's laser focus? Wow. What was _that_ like?"

"Intense and flattering. We're going out tomorrow night."

"Alright," Ruby smiled, but inside alarm bells rang. _I gotta text Kathryn._

"She's not crazy, right? Anything I need to worry about? Insane exes, bad breakups, red flags?

"Not that I know – and I would. I haven't seen her around town with anyone, but most of the teachers, public folks, leave town to go have some fun."

"Because she's gay?"

"Nah, because she's a teacher. Would you want to be on a first date and keep running into former students? It is a small town."

Emma raised her eyebrows in understanding as she took a final sip of her coffee. "Makes sense. All right, off to work. See you and Hunter tonight?"

"You bet."

The minute the diner door jangled closed with Emma on the other side, Ruby fished around in her apron for her cell. Turning her back toward the kitchen – and Granny's watchful gaze – she started typing.

**Just saw Emma. She's got a date with Liz McKenzie tomorrow night.**

Ruby quickly returned it to her apron before Granny noticed and went to seat a party of six that just walked through the door. Twenty minutes later, she felt the phone vibrate.

"Sue, cover Table 3? I gotta hit the ladies."

She couldn't even wait to enter the bathroom before she dug the phone out and read the reply in the hallway.

_I think that's good news, actually. Will explain later._

XXXX

"I hate Halloween," Kathryn announced as she sat in Regina's kitchen sipping a cup full of chamomile in between bites of a chocolate chip cookie.

"I imagine an elementary school principal would."

Every since Ruby's cookout, Kathryn had used the opportunity to return to her rightful place as Regina's best friend. They had been close before Daniel's death; Regina had been a godsend to her friend after Kathryn's fiancé broke off their engagement two weeks before the wedding. She tried her hardest to get Regina to open up and live a little since the tragedy – even just spend time with her – but you can only hear excuses so many times before you get the hint. Kathryn continued to call and kindly ingratiate herself as best she could, but lowered the frequency, respectful of Regina's long healing process. She always hoped her friend's shell would crack and she'd emerge the person she once was; she was thrilled to see her take those tentative first few steps at the cookout with a certain stunning new friend.

"The parties, the candy, the parade. Ay, yi yi. If I weren't going out in public tonight I'd finish that box of wine you pretend to hide in the back of your fridge."

"Hush, you," Regina scolded with a small smile. "Were there police at the parade?" She tried to sound nonchalant but didn't pull it off.

Every year, the students put their costumes on in the afternoon of the last school day before (or on) Halloween and did one lap of the parking lot while parents crammed into every square inch armed with cameras. Parking was a nightmare, which is why the police were always on hand to direct traffic into and out of the much-loved event.

Kathryn bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stifle the smirk that was dying to explode across her face. "Officer Bell directed traffic."

"Oh."

"Have you ever taken her class? She's amazing. Come with me sometime."

The brunette shook her head in automatic refusal, "I can't, I—"

"It's been four years, Regina. You need to get out and socialize."

"I honestly don't know why I continue to feed you, you're like a feral cat, I'll never get rid of you."

"Nor do you want to. Stop trying to change the subject."

"By socialize, you mean 'date.' And I don't want to have this conversation – again."

"No, I mean, actually talk to people over the age of 3."

"I'm talking to you."

"I don't count."

"I'm starting to think that myself. I talk to Emma."

Kathryn leaned in, interested. "Really, now? _Emma_?" This time, the smirk could not be contained.

Regina felt her cheeks get hot at the implication. "Not like that!"

"Then why are you blushing?"

"Because your assumption is so off base."

"Hmmm…"

"We're just friends. Henry adores her and I find…I enjoy talking to her, I like her company. There aren't many people my age in town to whom I can relate. She's witty, smart, ambitious."

"What about me?"

"We've established you don't count, dear."

Kathryn placed her hands over her heart and gaped in mock pain.

"Plus, she and Henry have a mutual admiration society."

"That sounds like what you'd want in a partner."

"I'm not gay!" she protested in a fierce whisper.

"Bi?"

"No!"

"You know she is, right?"

"Who?"

Kathryn wondered if Regina was rattled or obtuse. "The Chief. She's gay."

The brunette's eyes widened, she hadn't even considered the woman's sexuality or that Emma might return her affection. Hell, she couldn't even admit she had feelings for her friend.

"And how do you know this?"

"Ruby told me."

"Of course," Regina commented with an eye roll. "You would think Ruby would be smarter than to gossip about her husband's boss."

"She wasn't gossiping, the Chief mentioned it in passing. She's not a closet case."

"What on earth is that?"

"Someone who is afraid to admit her sexuality to others for fear of being rejected or attacked."

"Honestly, where do you get these terms?"

The blonde laughed at her friend's discomfort. "You are such a delicate flower. Join the 21st century, watch television. You're going to be 40, live a little. Get HBO for Christ's sake. Listen, Ruby wasn't gossiping. She was talking about socializing, going out and finding Mr. Right. The Chief informed her that if she were looking, it would be _Ms._ Right."

"Well, regardless, a person's sexual orientation is immaterial to me. I care about the person."

"So you care about her?"

"Stop trying to put words in my mouth," Regina huffed in a way that clearly indicated:

This conversation is over.

Kathryn smiled smugly. She knew two things: 1. She couldn't push Regina much further at the moment. 2. Regina was most certainly in denial.

"Well, you may not have a chance, anyway."

"What do you mean?" They reply was far too serious and rushed for an uninterested party.

"The Chief came to the lunch program yesterday and one of the teachers asked her out."

Regina was shocked, her brows knitting in concern, her chest automatically tightening, a small fissure of anxiety running up her spine. "Who?"

Kathryn sniggered. "What do you care?"

"How do you even know this?"

About to take another sip of tea, Kathryn halted the cup halfway to her mouth and unleashed a most unladylike snort. "Teachers are terrible gossips."

"Momma! I need hep with my costume!"

_Saved by the boy_ , Regina thought. "He's refused to take off his costume all day, despite the fact the pants are a little big and keep falling down. I've belted it as tightly as I can but it's still loose. Help me figure out how to keep his damn pants up, OK?"

Kathryn cheered and clapped when she saw the boy enter in his costume. His eyes widened in confusion at the woman's enthusiastic reaction. "Oh, Henry. That is _perfect_."

XXXX

Trade was brisk at Storybrooke Police's inaugural candy inspection, yet that didn't stop Emma from keeping an eye out for two visitors in particular. Traffic had slowed a bit by 7:30 when Emma heard Bell giggle and saw her point toward the door: "Would you look at that?"

Emma did and found Regina, Kathryn and Officer Henry Mills, resplendent in what was possibly the tiniest police uniform known to man. Kathryn claimed she was tagging along to see her students, but in reality she wanted to get a gander at her pet projects in person.

The boy sprinted over to a smiling Emma the moment he saw her and ran into her legs, hugging them. "Cheeeeef! I miss-ded you!"

Emma dropped to a knee as soon as she could pry him off. "I missed you, too, man. I _love_ your uniform. Wow." Warmth blossomed in her chest at the child's excitement. "Look alive, Bell, your boss is here."

"Good evening, sir."

"That's Deputy Chief Mills, Bell."

"Sorry, Chief. Good evening, Deputy Chief."

"Hi…Momma, Cheef's here!"

Kathryn bit her lip as she watched the exchange, gently elbowing Regina in the ribs for good measure. The brunette replied with the universal, urgent, wide-eyed "Not now/Shut up!" stare.

Emma looked up at Regina and smiled. "Hi."

"Hi."

Kathryn stepped back a few feet and began talking to Bell; she didn't want to impede the natural course of the conversation or get sucked under by the giant pull of longing that threatened to drag in anyone within a three-foot distance. The air was practically sparking.

"I've seen a few Thomases tonight. I'm surprised he didn't want to be a train." Emma relieved Regina of Henry's candy bag and poured it on the table, looking for opened or torn wrappers or anything suspicious.

"No, he was quite adamant about entering law enforcement. He refused to use the badge that came with the costume; he insisted on using the one you gave him." She snickered and shook her head at the memory of Henrys staunch refusal. "He has quite the role model."

"Awww, come on," Emma smirked, forcing herself to keep her eyes on the candy and not the gorgeous woman a foot away. "You're going to make me blush."

"I can't imagine you blushing."

Emma lifted her head and met soft, brown eyes. "Keep going and you're going to see for yourself." _Shit, no flirting_.

Regina cleared her throat, which was suddenly tight. "How is it going tonight?"

"Been good, lots of traffic. I think everyone had a good time."

An awkward silence filled the air as Emma began placing the candy back in Henry's bag.

"Emma, would you come to dinner tomorrow night? Henry misses you and I…I miss our conversations. I almost wish it were budget time again." Regina looked so heartbreakingly vulnerable, Emma wanted to gather the woman in her arms and never let her go.

"Tomorrow night? Uh…wow, I'm sorry. I'm busy."

"It's Friday night. Surely you can't be working. Even _I_ don't work on Friday nights." Regina nearly tittered at the thought someone might be more work-obsessed than her.

"No, I…um...I've got this thing." Regina noticed Emma's stammer and the fact the blonde now was blushing and wondered what was going on.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly, leaning well into Emma's personal space. Emma's head nearly swam with the smell of Regina's perfume and the intensity of her sincere concern.

"Yeah, I'm OK, just…long day."

"Of course."

"Cheef!" Henry returned from a candy-fueled sprint around the auditorium with several other preschoolers.

"Deputy Chief Mills, your candy is good to go," Emma announced, handing him his bag and a bookmark. She stuck a sticker on his uniform top that announced: "The Police Are My Friends."

"What about Momma?"

Emma raised an eyebrow at the brunette, slowly peeling the back off a sticker and holding it up, waiting for approval. Regina nodded. "Absolutely," she confirmed. "The police are my friends, too."

Emma gently pressed the sticker onto a safe area of Regina's shirt, south of her collarbone but far too north of where she truly wanted to touch.

"Emma, if not tomorrow night, then soon?" Regina's tone was tentative and quiet, unsure.

"Definitely." Her face bore a smile but her stomach sank in despair. "I'll see you both soon, OK?"

She sank down to give Henry a hug. "Whoa, hey, hold up," Kathryn wandered back to the table with a grin. "Hen, want a picture of you and the Chief?"

"Yay!" Emma stayed on one knee while Henry hugged her enthusiastically around the neck.

"1…2…3." The shutter sounded on Kathryn's phone, the unofficial end to their visit. Henry gave Emma a final high-five, then took his mother's hand.

"Wow," the blonde mocked. "Wonder where he learned _that_?"

"Thank you, Chief," Regina beamed.

"Anytime."

XXXX

As is the case for most parents post trick-or-treat, bedtime didn't come easy for Henry Mills – or his mother. Hopped up from a visit with his favorite law enforcement official and the two tiny Hershey bars he was allowed to have when they got home, the boy was a touch hyper.

"I want Cheef to put me to bed," he demanded as Regina shooed him into his bedroom after a highly belligerent tooth-brushing. She began to unbutton his uniform top, only to be reprimanded. "No! I want to wear the Cheef shirt to bed."

Regina sighed. This was going to be one of those pick-your-battles evenings. "Fine, but you can't wear the badge and you have to put on pajama pants."

Henry grumbled, but gave in, holding out his hand for the badge as soon as Regina removed it from his shirt. If he couldn't wear it, he was going to hold it.

"I want Cheef to tuck me in."

"She's working, Henry." The response was automatic, but when Regina took a second to think about it, she realized Emma was most likely done by now. If she called the woman and requested she come over because Henry said so, she was pretty sure the doorbell would be ringing shortly thereafter.

"I miss her." He scooted under the covers and handed Regina his only book of choice for weeks, "All About Police Cars." Tucking herself into the tiny bed in between Henry and the wall, Regina snickered, she hardly needed the book, she knew it all by heart at this point.

Three readings later ( _Why is this damn book so short?_ ) she heard the rhythmic breathing of her son, the silver badge still clutched in his pudgy left hand, trusty right-hand middle and index fingers in his mouth. She realized with a grin that the boy would not let Emma go. She was going to be part of his life for the foreseeable future, which meant she was going to be part of Regina's – which meant the brunette had to reach a conclusion regarding her feelings for the blonde.

She blushed hotly every time she thought about Emma because all she could think about were the sex dreams that were plaguing her sleep. She'd had four since the BBQ; each was slightly different but the outcome was the same: They were having mad, hot passionate sex – Emma the pursuer, Regina unable to move. She didn't have to be a psychologist to figure out what it meant.

Regardless, Regina tried to think it through. Was it the fact she'd gone years without a lover? Was it that Emma was new, exciting and an equal? Was she simply just starved for a friend? When she examined it logically, as she had been increasingly in her time alone, Regina came to a conclusion: She was attracted to Emma simply because she was Emma: kind, funny, sweet, ambitious, smart and caring.

That deduction led to another key question: _Am I gay?_ She'd been quick to deny it with Kathryn, but she knew that was a kneejerk reaction. Had she been attracted to a woman before? No. Was she now? Yes. _Am I gay? Does it matter?_ she wondered, lazily rubbing Henry's back. _And in the end, who cares?_ Regina realized that the attributes she found fascinating in Emma were independent of her gender. She liked Emma because she was Emma; the fact she was female was almost immaterial. However, when she thought about Emma's female form, it evoked very specific emotions, physical reactions and pleasing mental pictures – all of which she hadn't experienced since Daniel.

Regina exhaled smoothly. A light feeling of excitement filled her chest. She knew how she felt; it was true and real. Now, what to do next? She slowly slipped herself off the bed without waking Henry, then gently pried his fingers off the plastic badge and laid it next to his arm. They'd be hell to pay if he couldn't find it first thing tomorrow.

XXXX

November 1 arrived as usual, the back-to-normal, fun's-over greyness seemingly affecting everyone's mood, except surprisingly that of Officer Leroy Petit, who found a bag of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups in his locker the next afternoon.

"You're good people, Chief. I think you're alright, I don't care what the pretty one says."

"Hey!" Humbert protested. "Heard that, stumps."

Emma chuckled as she strolled out of the office, "Night, people."

Choo-Choo's monotone provided calming, if not bizarre, background noise over the scanner in her apartment an hour later as Emma finished prepping for her date. Ever since she joined the force she always kept a scanner on in her home.  _Jesus_ , _I need to get an_ actual _radio_. Giving herself a final once-over in the mirror, she deemed herself as presentable as she was going to get: black pants, dress boots, cream-colored peasant blouse, hair down and as curly as could be considering the time she had.

Three quick knocks sounded on the door just as Emma's mind wondered off, wondering what Regina and Henry were doing tonight and what they'd be doing together if she'd accepted the dinner invitation. She opened the door to find her date on the other side, looking even taller than she did at school the other day.

"Hey," Liz smiled, leaning against the doorframe confidently. "Ready to go?"

"Yes, I am." Emma grabbed her purse and began to walk into the hallway when the brunette stopped her, gently grabbing her bicep.

"It's chilly, might want to grab a coat." Liz squeezed a bicep admiringly. "Wow, what do you do?"

Emma laughed at her forgetfulness, grabbing for the blue leather motorcycle jacket hanging on the coat rack, and shut the door.

"They let you carry a gun?" Liz mocked as they walked down the stairs.

"I know, right?"

Just as Ruby predicted, the teacher chose an out-of-town location for their date, driving Emma to neighboring Rockport for dinner.

"So, just how tall are you, anyway?" Emma grinned as she directed a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

"Bare feet? 5'10. In these boots? 6'1"."

"If you're already tall, why would you want to be taller?"

"Height is power," she purred, sipping her wine. "And I've never had any complaints."

"I bet." Emma felt her cheeks warm. "But you must scare the hell out of those little kids you teach. They must think you're a giant."

"When parents can't remember my name, mostly around the beginning of the school year, I'm usually referred to as 'the tall one.' The kids learn pretty quickly that I'm a big softie. But, yeah, those tiny chairs are a bitch."

Dinner passed easily, the women sharing their tales of how they wound up in Storybrooke and war stories about their jobs. Liz was fascinated with police work, grilling Emma about her career; Emma couldn't get enough tales from the first-grade classroom, which were endlessly hysterical.

"So last week, one of the kids' spelling words was 'organ.' They have to write the words out in their notebooks and a sentence about each. One of the kids wrote, 'My Dad has a big organ.' Turns out Dad is the organist at Our Lady of the Sea."

Emma shook with laughter, wiping tears from her eyes. "Don't tell anyone, but we photocopy the craziest sentences and have a Wall of Fame in the teachers' room. Next week, one of the words is 'screw.' I'll let you know what happens."

"Oh my God, that's hysterical."

Emma returned her hand to the table only to feel Liz gently take it in her own, her thumb rubbing her palm. She looked up, "I haven't laughed like that in a while. Haven't had a nice night out in a while. Thank you."

"Thank you for coming. I checked the movie listings and there didn't seem to be anything worth seeing. Did you have a movie in mind?"

"I can't think of the last time I knew what was playing," Emma confessed. The rhythmic stroking of Liz's thumb was practically hypnotizing.

"There's a jazz club/coffee house in town, wanna go?"

"I'd love to."

The pair soon arrived at Lucky's, a converted Victorian that flew a rainbow flag over the front stairs, right next to the pious pelican of the Louisiana state flag.

"Is this the local gay scene?"

"Somewhat," Liz smiled, taking Emma's hand as they walked up the front steps. The blonde smiled to herself, it felt good to have someone hold her hand. "Jerry, the owner, is a bassist. His wife Kate is the coffee guru, baker and occasional singer." She opened the door and escorted Emma in with a wave of her arm. "He was a professional musician in New York. They moved up here a few years ago."

"What's with the flag?"

"They have good taste."

The women grabbed a banquette in the corner and two strong coffees that Liz guaranteed Emma would like. She was right. The statuesque brunette slid her arm around Emma's shoulders and pulled her close as Jerry and his trio ran through a set of Coltrane, Davis and Monk.

"I don't know anything about jazz," Emma whispered into Liz's ear.

"Do you like what you're hearing?"

"Yes," she breathed. The combination of the music, coffee and company were incredibly seductive.

"Then that's all you need to know."

Mesmerized by the music, the pair snuggled for a set, until a yawn gave Emma away. "Let's head out," Liz suggested. "I don't want you falling asleep on me…at least here." Emma returned her grin.

Pulling up in front of Emma's building, the blonde turned to her driver. "Come up for a drink?"

"I'll come up if I get to kiss you."

A thin tingle of excitement ran down Emma's torso. "You don't have to come up for that."

She leaned forward and met her date's lips, the taste of that delicious coffee only adding to the enjoyment. As aggressive as Liz had been since they met, she let Emma dictate the pace, lips slipping and sliding until the blonde snuck in a tongue and ratcheted up the intensity.

Emma kept one hand anchored in her partner's hair, the other reaching over and pulling the woman's torso across the center console as much as she could. "Come upstairs," she smiled wolfishly. Suddenly, Emma wasn't sleepy anymore.

The pair took their party from the car to the hall outside Emma's apartment. Deciding she couldn't wait any longer, she playfully pushed the tall woman up against the wall and wedged herself in between two long legs. Lips met again, hands now free to roam and map the contours of each other's torso. Soft, happy moans gave way to a giggle.

"Shit," Emma tittered, "you're too damn tall. Why'd you have to wear those boots? I feel like I'm mountain climbing."

The brunette smirked. "Well, let me help you." She grabbed Emma by the ass and hoisted her up, Emma jumping and curling her legs around Liz's hips. The brunette spun them so Emma was now wedged against the wall, Liz assaulting her neck with kisses and nibbling on her ear.

Emma tried bucking her hips slightly to get some friction, but it was fruitless in her current position. "Take me to the couch," she husked with a grin.

Liz grinned, eyes bright with excitement and arousal. "Yes, ma'am."

Fishing the keys out of her purse while being carried – one hand still holding onto her the teacher's neck for balance – Emma opened the door. Liz carried her over to the couch, coats and purses dropping on their way, and gently deposited her, quickly diving on top and resuming earlier explorations.

_Jesus Christ, this feels so good._ Emma made an indescribable moan-growl-sigh that made Liz chuckle against the blonde's chest. "Been a while?" she asked, pecking her on the nose.

"God, yes," Emma groaned, placing her hands on either side of the brunette's face. "I'm gonna go off like a rocket, I'm warning you."

A sexy rumble bubbled up from Liz's chest. "Oooh, baby. That just means we can start all over again."

The static of the scanner on the end table broke the inviting atmosphere of rustling clothes and muffled groans.

"10-46, 228 Elmwood Avenue."

"10-4. Bravo-2. 10-46, 228 Elmwood Avenue."

"What the fuck was that?" Liz gasped.

"Scanner." The brunette still looked confused. "Police radio." Emma grinned. "Don't you think it's sexy?"

"I think that guy's voice is creepy."

Between Choo-Choo and Petit, Emma realized her guest had a point. She didn't want those two virtually in the room with her if things progressed as she expected.

"Sorry, force of habit. Hold that thought." Emma extracted herself from underneath Liz's body, turning and twisting just enough to reach for the knob, only to stop when she heard the latest call.

"10-11, residential, 108 Mifflin Street. Possible 10-14."

"10-4. Bravo-1 responding, 108 Mifflin Street."

"Fuck!" Emma shot up so quickly she nearly bumped heads with Liz.

"What?"

"That's the Mayor's house. Her alarm went off and they're looking for a possible intruder."

"You got that all from those numbers?"

"Yeah." Emma stood up like a shot, threading an arm into a vacant shirtsleeve and adjusting her pants. "God, I'm so sorry, I gotta go."

"Why? Don't you have other officers on?"

"Yeah, but…it's the Mayor and she's got a little kid and she's all alone. I need to make sure she's OK. She's my friend, you know?"

Emma found her jacket on the floor, threw it on and grabbed her keys, only to run back to the couch and kiss Liz solidly on the lips. "Can we pick this up tomorrow night? Are you free?"

The dejected-looking woman suddenly rebounded. "For you? Yes. Go. I'll lock up on my way out." Emma kissed her again, deeply, nipping her top lip as they parted. "I'll call you tomorrow." The brunette smacked Emma on the ass as she sprinted out the door on the edge of an orgasm below the belt and heart thudding in panic above. It was a terrible combination. Liz was just turning the lock and stepping into the hallway when she heard the loud rumble of Emma starting her car and peeling away. _Oh, she's driving tomorrow._

XXXX

The Mustang roared up to 108 Mifflin Street, coming to a screeching halt next to two cruisers. The sight of both in front of the house made Emma sprint up the walkway to find Humbert, Petit and a bathrobe-clad Mayor in the doorway.

"Two officers _and_ the Chief?" she smirked, while Leroy and Graham looked at Emma in confusion. "You three certainly know how to make a citizen feel protected. The neighbors will have lots to talk about tomorrow."

Emma dropped her head sheepishly. "I heard the call on the radio and wanted to make sure you…you know, you and Henry were OK."

She turned to her officers. "What's going on? Did you find someone?"

Humbert snickered while Petit practically spat his response: "Stupid, Choo-Choo. I don't know why the hell he called a 10-14. He claims the alarm company sent it but I think he's just an idiot. The alarm just went off. No one's in the house or on the grounds."

"Do me a favor, check again? I know the Mayor is tough, but it would make me feel better." The men nodded and split up, heading for the backyard one more time.

"We're fine," Regina assured, grabbing Emma's forearm. "The housekeeper must have been airing out the second floor and forgot to shut a window that was wired. I armed the alarm and it went off almost immediately."

"Is Henry OK?"

"He's fine. He woke up, but I got him back to bed."

Emma practically sagged in relief, the adrenaline from her workout with Liz and the call starting to wane. Regina warmed at the blonde's concern, nearly overwhelmed by the fact that her friend darted out, clearly off-duty, to ensure her and Henry's safety. She took in Emma's casually dressy appearance and approved. Until, that is, she spied a smear of bright red lipstick under Emma's earlobe and the matching shade further down her neck, near her collar. Her mind assembled the clues immediately: dinner invite, busy, Kathryn's news, teacher, blushing. Emma had been out with someone. Someone who had her lips all over Emma. Jealousy, hurt and fear flared immediately, her pupils nearly blown at the realization.

"What?" Emma narrowed her eyes in confusion as Regina quickly removed her hand.

Before either woman could speak further, a faint "Momma?" could be heard from the stairs. "Chief?"

Regina walked over and picked up the boy while Emma smiled. "Hey, buddy."

Sleepy eyes widened at the sight of Emma's Mustang and two cruisers parked out front.

"Police!" he chirped.

"Nothing bad, pal," Emma assured, patting him on the back. "The house had a…" She searched for a good preschool explanation. "The house had a boo-boo."

Regina remained silent. "Regina, are you—"

Leroy and Graham returned. "All clear."

Leroy keyed his mic. "Bravo-1, Bravo-2, Delta-1, 10-26 108 Mifflin Street."

Choo-Choo's response was immediate and confused.

"Delta-1?"

"10-4, Delta-1. Currently 10-10."

"10-4, Bravo-2."

"Thanks, guys. See you Monday."

"'Night Regina," Graham offered over his shoulder. Leroy simply grunted.

"Well, as you can see, we're fine. Thank you for coming." Regina's tone was icy.

"Regina, what's—"

"Chief, read me a story?" Henry reached out a fuzzy-pajama-clad arm to grab her coat and pull her in.

"Sure, pal, I'd—"

"Sweetheart, the Chief needs to leave."

"I don't have to. I'd love to stay. I—"

"Good night, Chief." Regina put her hand on the front door, signaling it was about to close, either in front of – or on - Emma. As Regina turned and closed it behind her, the last thing Emma saw was Henry's confused face sulking over his mother's shoulder. The door closed with a thud as Emma stood on the porch wondering what the fuck just happened.

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, to super-beta and friend Alaska829Snow for her insight, advice and hysterical editing notes (my favorite this week: “FUCK YOU. I AM NOT SOBBING”). Please to enjoy the longest chapter I’ve ever written. Didn’t set out to do so but, damn, there’s just a lot to cover in this one.

Sunday morning arrived very differently for the two most powerful women in Storybrooke, Maine. The police chief woke up slowly, deliciously and sated, tangled in the bare limbs and soft comforter of her new friend.

"Good morning," Emma yawned, giving her bedmate a squeeze.

"I'll say." Liz rolled her long, shapely form on top of her guest and began pressing hot, open-mouthed, wet kisses to the column of Emma's neck, until she reached a spot that made the blonde giggle. "Big, bad, giggling cop? You are too cute."

"I _am_ human, you know."

Liz leaned on one elbow, the other hand tracing a lazy path down Emma's neck and shoulders until it reached a breast. She caressed it lovingly, then tweaked a nipple, following with an insistent tongue. "Oh," she purred, her mouth full, "I know."

Across town, the day was not as bright and beautiful when Kathryn rang the doorbell at 108 Mifflin Street.

"Wow, you look like shit."

"And good morning to you." Regina raised an unamused eyebrow, turned and headed for the kitchen.

"Why, yes, I will come in. Thank you." Kathryn let herself in, shutting the door behind her and following her friend into the kitchen. As soon as she walked in, a travel mug of coffee was placed in her hands. She eyed her friend warily. Regina looked normal: perfect makeup, hair just so, dress pants, blouse and heels. But her eyes: Kathryn knew they always held the key to the woman's state, and this one was unwell. She looked tired and hurt.

"Seriously, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Regina…"

" _Kathryn_ , no."

"Do you still want to go to brunch?"

"Yes." Walking out of the kitchen and into the hall, Regina called, "Henry! Get your shoes and coat." The boy soon appeared, adorable in a Polo shirt, Dockers and Buster Browns. His bangs had been brushed to the side in a smooth sweep, glistening with some sort of product holding them in place.

"Man, Henry, I need a version of you, only slightly taller. You are too cute."

"Momma says so."

"Momma's right."

Regina was helping him into his duffle coat when the boy dropped a bomb. "Is Cheef coming, too?" Had Kathryn not been watching Regina so carefully, she wouldn't have noticed the tiny shudder that ripped through her torso. But she was and she did.

"No, honey, not today," Regina answered tightly. She looked a mix of crestfallen and pissed. Kathryn eyed her friend seriously. _Something happened_.

Gently ushering the boy out into the hallway, Kathryn tried to change the subject and shoo the 800-pound elephant out of the room. "Let's shake a leg, sir. If we get there late, the fruit salad will be all picked over and Auntie Kat will be left with only nasty honeydew."

"Yuck!"

"I _know_!" She looked back and found Regina trailing uncharacteristically behind, still looking rocked by Henry's question. "You coming?"

"Yes."

"Well, hustle up, I wasn't kidding about the melon."

After brunch, Kathryn immediately made a phone call.

"Hey," Ruby answered, pushing a Hunter-laden shopping cart through the grocery store. "What's up?"

"Did something go down between our favorite friends?"

Ruby couldn't help it, she snorted out loud, which prompted a confused glance from her son and side-eye from a shopper to her right. She winked at the boy, who happily snorted in reply, thinking she was playing a game. "Go down? I wish, isn't that what we're hoping for?"

"Very funny. And yes. However, I just left our Mayor's house and she's nuclear pissed-off about something. Have you heard anything? It's not work-mad. I've seen that. This seems personal."

Ruby tried to think; she hadn't seen Emma since Halloween. Wait… "Graham told me Regina's house alarm went off Friday night. Emma showed up, as he put it, 'all dressed up.'"

"Why was Emma there?"

"Said she heard it on the scanner."

"She brings a scanner on her dates?" Kathryn chuckled to herself. That is something Regina would do if she were a cop. Of course these two are perfect for each other.

"Heh. I'm guessing she has one in her house, like most cops I know. She was on a date with Liz?"

"Yes, Friday night." Kathryn laughed at an absurd thought. "Jesus, she didn't bring Liz to Regina's, did she?"

Ruby couldn't help but hoot at the idea. "No, but damn wouldn't you have paid to see that? Regina vs. Laser Liz? Wow." She expertly pushed the cart while she talked, selecting her groceries and swatting unwanted additions from Hunter's grabby hands. A quick run by the bakery secured a bribery donut to keep him occupied. Small victories.

"Anyway, Emma shows up, clearly off-duty, and sends Graham and Leroy to check the grounds one more time. They leave, the women are fine. They come back, Regina looks pissed."

"And he has no idea what happened?"

"No, but it was so obvious, _a guy_ noticed the drop in interpersonal temperature."

Kathryn whistled low. "Well, I can't find out for a while. She's like a melted-down reactor right now, she's gotta cool down or I'll get killed. I know Regina, she's as stubborn as a mule and scared as a mouse. We have to wait until she chills out."

"What's she got to be scared of?"

"Her feelings, for one, I'd guess. Maybe thinking she's too late to do anything about it because of Liz? I can't be quite sure. I mentioned Liz on Halloween and she wasn't acting like I saw today. She's still too red-hot to get a good read. Keep your eyes open and let me know if you see anything?"

Ruby laughed. "10-4."

XXXX

Until recently, Tuesday morning 10 a.m. was a favorite time for Emma Swan. It was her weekly half-hour update with the Mayor, which after her first two weeks on the job stretched into an hour. Regina's secretary joked (always to herself, of course) that it was the Mayor's only 30-minute meeting that commanded an hour of her calendar. The first meetings were held at the conference table, but they quickly moved to two comfortable arm chairs that stood guard in front of the building's original fireplace. Yes, the women talked shop, Emma providing updates on the department, then the pair discussing future items for consideration. After about 20 minutes, or one cup of coffee, they ended up veering off into some other territory, such as their careers, current events – lately, their backgrounds – and always their favorite subject, Henry.

Each week, the meeting progressed a little further away from business and a little closer to two friends spending time together under the aegis of work. That is, until recently. Regina had sensed something was up with her friend as of late, Emma seeming a little more guarded than usual. She chalked it up to work, she knew Emma had just gone through the budget gauntlet for the first time. She was still very new to her job, of course it could catch up to a person. Regardless, the time had become Regina's favorite meeting of the week.

Until Tuesday, Nov. 5. It would be the first time she saw Emma since she all but slammed the door in her face the previous Friday night. Regina was embarrassed by her actions and didn't want to see the woman anytime soon. It was too fresh, it hurt too much, she just wanted some space. She was tempted to cancel, invent any excuse to take a week off – it would be so easy - but her professional side rejected that thought. No, they would meet and Regina would be the Mayor she was: competent, professional, all business.

Despite the cold weather, Emma walked from the station to Town Hall. She told herself she wanted the exercise, but knew deep down she was in no hurry to get to the meeting. All she knew was that Regina was incredibly upset about something Emma couldn't decipher. Her post-door-slamming text of Friday night - **Are you OK? Please let me know** \- sat unanswered, regardless of how many times Emma checked over the following three days.

Emma glumly walked into the Mayor's office like she was marching to her own execution. "Hi, Laura, the Mayor in?"

The secretary looked curiously at the Chief, wondering what was going on. The blonde usually strutted in, all smiles and enthusiastic greetings. Today she was abnormally subdued and the Mayor had been moody since first-thing Monday. She wondered what on earth was going on when she pressed the intercom. "Madam Mayor, the Chief's here."

"Send her in."

Walking by Laura's desk to enter the office, she was stopped. "Here's your agenda," the secretary noted. Emma took it, confused. Agenda? We've never had an agenda. She read on:

**POLICE DEPARTMENT WEEKLY UPDATE MEETING**

Attendees: Mayor Regina Mills, Chief Emma Swan

Tuesday, Nov. 5, 10-10:15 a.m.

1\. Halloween Candy Inspection Wrap-up

2\. Election Day Polling Plan

3\. Other Business

What the hell? Emma walked in rattled, deciding to just go with the flow. She found Regina tapping away, eyes on her screen.

"Madam Mayor?" Emma tried to adopt a friendly, joking tone: _Ha, ha, just pulling your leg. "Madam Mayor" – good one, right?_ "Madam Mayor" - it sounded so strange, this was Regina. In this office, between the two of them, it had become Regina and Emma.

"Chief, have a seat." She gestured to the chair in front of her desk, her eyes never leaving the screen. "You received the agenda from Laura?" She looked up expectantly, her voice cold and her mouth set in a hard, grim line.

"Yes."

Regina remained behind her desk, Emma in the supplicant visitor's chair. The cherry desk might as well have been 10 miles wide. "Well, let's get started…"

Emma summarized the success of the candy inspection, then they moved on to outline a plan for the Election Day polls the following Tuesday.

"We won't need to meet next week," Regina noted coolly, thankful for the automatic out of the second Tuesday in November.

"We could meet another time?" Emma looked on, hopeful.

"It's unnecessary. We'll resume the 19th."

The women had completed the agenda in 12 minutes.

Breaking character as "The Chief," Emma realized it was now or never and leaned forward. "Regina, what's wrong? Please tell me." Her voice was achingly close to begging, her eyes wide and soft.

The brunette's attention returned to her screen, fingers on the keyboard. "That will be all, Chief. Good day." She didn't dare deviate her gaze, she knew she'd crumble in an instant. She didn't have to look at her guest to easily envision hurt, confused, green eyes.

Emma stood with a sigh, spotting a picture of a smiling, sandy Henry on a beach. "Please tell Henry I said 'Hi,'" she requested softly as she walked toward the door. "I miss him." Had Emma turned her head even once on the way out, she would have caught a stray tear landing on a keyboard.

The next morning, Regina was sipping her morning coffee at her desk when she opened an interoffice envelope addressed to **Mayor Regina Mills - EYES ONLY**. No departmental sender address. She had to bite back a sob when she opened it up and a lone Ghirardelli dark chocolate bar slid out.

XXXX

"Hey, where are you?"

The pair was nestled in Liz's giant sleigh bed. The talented teacher sure liked to get naked, a fact for which Emma was presently very grateful. She was getting her itch scratched – as Robert put it – but it wasn't doing the trick as she had hoped. Yes, it was wonderful and amazing, but it wasn't keeping her mind off Regina and the ache of wondering what she did to so enrage and hurt her friend.

That morning, Emma had her latest weekly meeting in Regina's office, and despite the fact it had been two weeks, the Mayor hadn't thawed a bit. Still remote, all business, still behind her desk. She chuckled ruefully. The meeting did last 14 minutes. Maybe that was progress?

"Sorry, just thinking about things. Work."

Liz turned her head and assessed her lover. They had just spent the past hour enjoying hot, sweaty, athletic sex. Her partner should be content and happy, but she certainly didn't look the part. Despite the fact she was wrapped in nearly 6 feet of delicious naked, beautiful female, Emma mentally was somewhere else – and it wasn't a happy place.

"Tell me."

Lifting her head off Liz's shoulder, Emma tried to act nonchalant. "Eh, nothing. Just some troubles with the Mayor."

 _The Mayor?_ That was not the answer she expected. "What kind?"

"She's been frosty lately." Emma chuckled at how severely that adjective fell short of the truth. "I'm not sure what I did wrong. She claims it's nothing, but…"

A feeling of dread seized Liz's chest as she watched Emma speak. That look. She knew that look, this wasn't business, this was personal. Was the Mayor…? _Nah, couldn't be. I would have heard. Shit, I would have made a move._ Her eyes crinkled in concern. "Then it's nothing. She'll get over it." Her lips turned up at one corner, a hint of vulnerability in her husky voice. " _I'm_ not mad at you, why don't you think about me?"

Emma pondered her current environment. _You are naked. In bed. With a gorgeous, lanky brunette._ "You're right." She grinned lasciviously, rolling on top of her bedmate, their skin still slick from earlier exertions. "No more talking." She dipped her head and slipped her tongue into Liz's mouth, finding familiar, arousing tastes. One hand expertly roamed south as she began laving the underside of a generous breast, while the other blindly reached for the harness that had buried itself somewhere in the sheets.

XXXX

Everyone tread lightly in the ensuing days, which by now were nearing a fourth week; Thanksgiving just a few days away. Only Regina knew the truth, which left the other interested parties – Emma, Ruby and Kathryn – completely in the dark as to the exact nature of the woman's icy mood. The source? That was relatively clear.

"This is dragging on too long," Ruby noted. "Despite gettin' some, Emma's not herself, and Regina looks like someone ran over puppy, backed up and ran over it again."

Kathryn looked up from reading The Mirror at Granny's counter. "That is one disturbing metaphor." She held up a finger and crooked it, signaling Ruby to come closer.

"How was your labor with Hunter?"

"What?" Eyes widened comically as Ruby tried to figure out where Kathryn was taking this conversation.

"Did it hurt?"

The question was so ridiculous, the waitress couldn't help but laugh. "It fucking killed. I felt like I was being torn apart from the inside."

"How did you feel after?"

Pausing, Ruby spent several seconds bringing herself back in time to the moment when the nurse placed her son in her arms. The person she had spent 39 weeks with, but never met until that very second. Suddenly, he was there, pink and perfect, wrapped up like a burrito, shiny, brown eyes wide and wondrous. My son.

"It was amazing. I was over the moon," she breathed, mentally back in that hospital bed, the warm, solid weight of an 8-lb 14-oz boy in her arms.

Kathryn smiled at Ruby's beaming face, lost in a memory. "And how long will you love him? How long will he be your son?"

Ruby looked at her friend like she was insane. "Forever."

Tilting her head down at the paper, which bore a picture of Regina at a ribbon-cutting, next to a story about the police department's anti-bullying initiative, she smiled. "Welcome to labor."

XXXX

Regina sat back in the fireside easy chair, uncharacteristically doing nothing. She came in to check on her too-quiet son and found him playing happily. She decided to simply sit for a few moments and gaze. He was growing so fast and time was moving so quickly, she sat and simply watched him send colorful, wooden trains up and down hills and around grooved tracks. She wanted to preserve every last second, something she couldn't do if she was moving too fast. She made a vow to make more time to regularly just stop and drink in her beautiful boy.

Henry barely registered her presence, humming and talking to himself, completely engrossed in his play. His volume increased, however, as he grabbed the plastic yellow Mustang, put in on the track to chase the trains and launched into a song:

_Hun-ter's Dad's a po-lice off-sir_

_My-eye Chief's a po-lice off-sir_

_She-da-boss, she-da-boss, she-da boss_

He looked up and smiled. "Like my song, Momma?" Regina's stomach was on the floor. "Yes," she smiled as brightly as she could. "It's wonderful."

"When do we see Cheef again? I miss her."

Regina opened her mouth, but no words came out. The phone rang. _Thank God._

"Be right back."

Exiting the room as quickly as she could, she grabbed the phone and spied Kathryn's name on the ID and picked up.

"Hello."

"What are you doing? You sound weird."

"Going insane." Regina tried to joke but the underlying melancholy was all-too-evident to her friend.

"You know what? You're going out."

"I don't want to go out with you," Regina protested. "And don't use your principal voice on me."

"I'll use it whenever I please, it comes with the doctorate. And, for your information, I don't want to go out with you, either. You're going out by yourself. I'm coming over to watch H-Bomb, you're going out."

"Where?"

"I don't care, up to you. Dinner, movie, shopping, whatever. Go and don't come back for at least two hours." As much as Kathryn loved her friend, she loved telling her what to do even more. Regina's entire life was about control and being in charge of everything, giving everyone else orders. Kathryn welcomed the opportunity to alleviate a little bit of that burden and turn the tables. "I'll be there in 45 minutes. Get your shit together."

"I can't believe you're responsible for running an entire school that shapes the next generation."

"Forty-five minutes," Kathryn repeated, ending the call.

Although initially annoyed at her friend's tough-love approach, by the time Kathryn arrived Regina was looking forward to it. She packed a bag and decided to head to the gym for some quality laps in the pool. It had been far too long and the sport had always relaxed her. She was just zipping up her duffle when the door bell rang and Kathryn let herself in without waiting for the invitation.

"Where are you going?" the blonde inquired seriously.

"The gym."

"Has Henry eaten?"

"There's a pan of macaroni and cheese in the oven. Milk with dinner, don't let him try to talk you into juice." Regina smirked as Kathryn nodded in agreement. It was true, she was a pushover. "A bowl of washed grapes is in the fridge, make sure he eats a dozen or so. You can eat, too, I suppose."

"Yay," Kathryn cheered, clapping her hands.

"Auntie Kat!" Henry ran up and leaped into the woman's arms.

"Ooof, man, what is Momma feeding you, you're getting so big." The boy grinned proudly and hugged the blonde around the neck. "Momma's gonna go out and you and I are going to eat dinner and play. Sound good?" Henry nodded and wriggled to be set down.

"Wanna play trains?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No!" he laughed, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the living room. "Bye Momma!"

Regina smiled as she shut the door behind her, listening to the conversation fading in the distance, "All right, what's going on with these trains today?"

Ninety minutes later, Regina felt much, much better. Just a half-hour swim had improved her mood greatly. Concentrating on her form demanded the brunette's complete attention, there was no room, time or brain power to think about anything – or anyone - else. It was heaven. It had been too long since she'd had a good swim workout – her arms would be reminding her of that fact tomorrow, for sure – and Regina vowed to make it a regular occurrence. She smiled, wondering what Kathryn would con out of her for substitute sitting so she could get in regular workouts. Copious food and drink, no doubt; she smirked, she could live with that.

Grabbing her toiletries and a towel, Regina headed to the showers, anxious for the piping hot spray. The only bad part of an indoor pool workout was the fact you were almost always freezing from the moment your toe went from the warm water to the cold pool deck. She stripped off her suit and stepped back under the shower, the hot spray and the warm feeling of well-used muscles making her feel fantastic. She was soaping her hair when she heard what sounded like a herd of women enter the locker room. _One of the classes must have let out._ The sound of lockers banging open and shut filled the rooms, as others made their way to the bank of shower stalls.

She heard the curtain of the next stall open and shut, then open and shut again. "Where do you think you're going?" husked a voice. A different voice giggled and Regina jumped as she heard a bang against the joint shower wall. One voice rose above the din and stopped Regina dead in her tracks.

"What the hell?" the voice whispered with a laugh.

"Let's get clean together."

Regina tried desperately not to listen, to focus on something – anything – else but it was impossible.

"Are you crazy?"

The voices stopped, replaced by silence, humming and a gasp followed by a quiet moan. _Oh God, no._ Regina eyes shot up to the source of a thud, where she found fingers gripping the top of the joint wall.

"Get your hand out of there!" Emma hissed as quietly as she could. A short smack followed, trailed by a snicker. " _No_ , not here. As tempting as it is, I can't. Word gets around I'm fucking in the locker room of the gym? Forget it. I have a reputation to maintain."

Devastated as she was, Regina couldn't help but be proud of Emma.

"I'll stop if you come shower with me at my place."

"Deal."

Liz's voice lowered into predatory levels as she kissed her way up Emma's neck to her ear, the sounds easily traveling one stall over. "And when we're in _my_ shower, I'm putting my hands wherever I want."

"I'm counting on it."

Regina sagged against the shower wall, all the good vibes earned by the swim gone in an instant. She arrived home in worse condition than she left.

"I opened the red," Kathryn commented absently as she heard the front door open and close, staring at the documents on her laptop. She kept typing until she heard Regina pad into the room. She looked up, shocked to see the state in which her friend had returned.

"What happened?" she cried, incredulous.

"Nothing," came the emotionless reply, Regina lifting a glass of wine to her lips.

Kathryn put down her laptop. "Sit down," she commanded. "This ends tonight. I can't let you go on like this."

Regina did as she was told, slumped onto the couch next to her friend. Grabbing Regina's hands, she stated: "I know what's wrong."

The brunette looked horrified. "No, believe me, you don't."

"Yes, I do. You like Emma."

"Of course I do," Regina snorted, as if Kathryn just told her the sky was blue. "She's a friend."

"No, you _like_ her. Don't lie. I know when you're lying."

"Bullshit."

"Madam Mayor!" Kathryn pretended to be shocked but she truly was. Regina rarely cursed, only under extreme pressure. _This must be killing her._ "Remember when we went to Montreal and we met those guys on St. Catherine's? That guy I really liked but he never made a move and hung around you all night? And you said you weren't interested and we went back to the hotel? I know you snuck out and met him later."

Regina gaped. Now it was her turn to be surprised. _How did she find out? If she figured_ that _out, her feelings for Emma were an open book._ "All right," she sighed, "you win."

Kathryn scooted forward and laid her hand on Regina's knee. "Honey, I don't want to win, I want _you_ to win. Emma is great and you deserve someone great."

"What about the teacher?" Regina spat out the last two words like they were the most foul curse imaginable.

Kathryn couldn't help but smile, she knew Regina knew the woman's name but refused to utter it. She'd be shocked if Regina hadn't run a background check on her. "I know Liz, she's not a long-term relationship-type of gal. If you told Emma you were interested, I bet Liz would be relegated to 'friend' quickly." _Not tonight at least_ , Regina snorted to herself.

Regina laid her head back on the chair. "I don't even know what I'm doing."

"Listen, you're not picking out rings, just try each other on for size, see how you fit. No one has to know, if you're worried about the whole Mayor-Chief thing."

"I'm not, I checked her contract, there's no fraternization clause." Kathryn bit her lip. Of course Regina checked Emma's contract. Of course.

"Doesn't matter anyway, right? She ultimately reports to the City Council, not you."

"Yes."

"Then what are you waiting for? Spend time together, do fun things with Henry, _enjoy your life_. That's the best thing about Squirt, he'll just ping-pong between you and Emma in utter ecstasy. You'll never have to talk."

Laughing, she nodded. "That is true. So, I like women now." It was a declarative statement but held a hint of uncertainty.

"At least one in particular, and I think you're doing both of you a disservice if you continue to deny yourselves happiness for a minute longer. Honey, I've seen the way she looks at you, I'd kill for that."

"It'll be the talk of the town."

"So what? Like I said, you can keep it quiet. If it doesn't work out, no one has to know. If you hit it off and decide to go public, yeah, it'll be news, for a little while. Hell, McCarty's horse escaping his paddock and meandering down Main Street was news for a day. But then everything will go back to normal. Except for the fact you get to be with someone who thinks you walk on water."

"I don't know…"

"Just think about it, OK?" Kathryn he snaked her arm around a trim waist and whispered into Regina's ear. "You know, if you're looking for a girlfriend, I can fit the bill." She could feel Kathryn shaking, trying not to giggle and break character. "You're an amazing cook, you're kinda good looking and I suppose I could do stuff to you in bed if you need it. I've seen The L Word." She impishly pecked Regina's cheek, just before she was pushed away by her laughing friend.

"Get off of me," Regina smiled.

"So tell me, I gotta know. What did Emma do that night at your house that turned you into a miserable bitch?"

Regina nearly shuddered at the memory. "She showed up when she heard about the alarm. I was so touched, until I saw the lipstick on her neck and earlobe."

Hooting, Kathryn nearly snorted wine out her nose. "Daaaaamn."

"Indeed."

Near the harbor, fingers clutched desperately at a tight bed sheet as short pants and grunts sounded rhythmically.

"Stop…teasing," Emma pled, every nerve alight in glorious sensation.

"Mmmm," Liz hummed, amused, muffled thanks to her position. The vibrations from her chuckle pushed Emma closer to the edge but not close enough to achieve her goal, thanks to the teasing. She lifted her head, striking blue eyes twinkling. "You had your fun, now it's my turn. C'mon, baby, let me hear you."

"Unh!" Emma's feet were flat on the mattress, pushing up in search of more stimulation. Her calf muscles were straining so tight Emma worried she might pop a Charley Horse. Her right hand threaded itself in Liz's silky, black hair pushing her head down. "There," she panted, making one final adjustment. " _There_."

Emma closed her eyes, chasing release. She was nearly there when an image flew unbidden into her mind's eye. Causing the most delicious sensations, a brunette head looked up with a shy smile, Emma's green eyes locking on…brown. The picture, combined with Liz's expert ministrations, was like throwing gas on a fire. Arousal flared and leapt to their highest levels, causing Emma to buck frantically. Liz, hanging on for the ride, hummed again in excitement; she'd never felt Emma unleash so wildly. The blonde went reeling with a loud, long, guttural moan.

After wiping her face on the inside of Emma's thigh, Liz smirked as she pulled the blonde against her into a tight embrace. "Holy fuck. Did I do something different? You found a whole other gear. New sheets tonight, baby. Wow."

Emma instantly came to a conclusion, face still bright red, panting and completely boneless from the best orgasm she'd had in recent memory. Her mind was reeling. She couldn't escape Regina even with another woman's head between her legs. Liz was funny, smart and sexy as hell. There was only one problem. She wasn't Regina. Pain flared in her chest: she knew she had to stop seeing Liz. She liked the woman, a lot, but even after a few weeks Emma could tell their relationship would never evolve beyond dates and sex. It was wildly unfair to Liz, she knew.

Before she moved to Maine, this would have been the perfect relationship: casual sex and casual dating. It was what Emma preferred, she was never looking for love…until now. Regina Mills had tilted her landscape so drastically she couldn't even enjoy a consensual good time with a gorgeous woman. Now, on top of the anguish of her dream woman hating her, was the pain having to turn away a stunning soul who wanted nothing more than to go out and have then, then take her home and fuck her senseless. There was no other way, unless Liz would go for: _I'm in love with a straight woman, but I really like having sex with you. Is that OK?_ Emma sighed, much harsher than she intended. _Will I_ ever _feel good again?_

"That is a very heavy sigh. It's supposed to be dreamy, woman." Liz lightly pinched Emma just above the hipbone, her brows drawing in concern. _This wasn't working. Goddammit._ "Talk to me."

While Liz waited for her bedmate to form words, she began to mourn a relationship she knew was going to end in the next 15 minutes. _Fuck_. She really liked Emma, but it was clear she had it bad for the Mayor. The blonde never stated it outright but she didn't have to; Liz had been involved with enough women to read them like a book. Maybe they were an item and broke up, maybe they never got together: Liz had tried to hunt for clues. There was no way to ask outright, bringing up past bad relationships was an easy way to kill the present good one.

Who knows, it didn't make a difference, it was still overshadowing their fun. The pair went out 2-3 times a week. They had great dates, and it always ended with amazing sex. Liz's initial inkling that Emma wasn't present in their relationship had only grown stronger over time. What frustrated Liz the most was the fact that she wanted to keep it casual. She wasn't looking for a key to Emma's apartment or holidays together. She liked casual dating without commitment – a steady Plus-1 - but Emma was too far gone to even provide that. Liz didn't want commitment, but she at least needed the person to be here. And Emma clearly couldn't be.

Liz wound her arm around Emma's shoulders and pulled the woman's head onto her chest. _Jesus, am I going to miss that hair._ "You don't have to say it. I understand."

"I feel terrible."

"It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is. I'm so sorry." Moisture welled in green eyes, she felt so goddamn guilty. _Liz is a great person, this is so shitty._

"I'll get laid again, don't you worry," the brunette assured brightly. Liz McKenzie could put on a tough façade but this one stung.

Emma broke out in a watery laugh, she can't remember the last time she teared up over a woman. "This is so cliché, but I really, truly want to be your friend."

Liz chuckled, squeezing Emma, enjoying the last feel of her bare form. "It's not you, it's me?"

"It is!"

"I know, that's what makes it so funny." She pressed a kiss to the crown of Emma's head. "Yes, of course. And I mean that." The funny thing was, she really did. "Who else am I going to get to fix my tickets?" Emma turned and leaned into her lover for a final, thorough kiss, each tasting the other on languidly stroking tongues.

XXXX

The following night, Ruby smiled to herself as she opened a bottle of wine and waited for her guest's arrival. A tingle of excitement rustled in her belly as she thought about the text she received that morning.

**Can you sneak out for a drink tonight?**

_No, but come over. Hunter's in bed by 7:30 and drinks are way cheaper at my place._

**OK.**

She had been trying to get Emma alone for the past few weeks, but it had proved difficult between work and Liz. The only time they saw each other was Granny's and that wasn't the best place for a private conversation. Now, finally, she might be able to get a read on the situation.

As the doorbell rang, Hunter came flying out of nowhere in his footy pajamas, always thinking the person at the door was for him, despite the fact it rarely was. "C'mon in," hollered Ruby from the kitchen, prompting Emma to do just that.

"Hey, Hunter," Emma greeted with a tight smile. It almost hurt to look at him because all she saw was Henry.

"You Henry's Chief!" the boy exclaimed. Ruby walked in and grinned at her son's conclusion. The look quickly changed to one of concern when she glanced at her friend, who was trying to conceal the fact that she just took a virtual punch to the heart.

"I'll put him to bed. Make yourself at home. Wine's open in the kitchen."

Ruby walked into the living room several minutes later, her own glass in hand, to find Emma sipping and staring off into space.

"You look tough."

"Thank you?" Emma snickered.

"You and Liz not getting on?"

"No, no not that."

"So you _are_ getting on." Ruby launched a dirty chuckle and raised her eyebrows.

"Not anymore. We broke it off."

"What happened?" Ruby leaned forward, now unsure if Emma was upset about Regina, Liz or both.

"It's me. I…" Emma paused, as if she were poised on a cliff with one leg dangling off. Could she trust Ruby? Emma always felt she could read people, and when she looked at her friend she saw nothing but sincere, concerned eyes. "I need you to promise this stays between us."

"Absolutely."

Emma took a deep breath and leapt: "I'm in love with Regina."

Ruby remained stock-still. She wanted to jump up and down triumphantly, scream with excitement and joy. She did neither. Instead, her face broke into a bright, brilliant smile as she reached for Emma's hand. "I am so happy for you both."

"Well, don't be," Emma advised ruefully. "She's pissed at me, I don't know why, and she's straight."

Ruby leaned back and took a sip of wine, trying to compose her answers. _I can't fucking wait to text Kathryn._ "I don't know why she's closed off. I've just seen her in passing at the preschool. I've tried to shoot the shit but she was always on the run. I got the hint she didn't want to talk."

Emma frowned. _Dammit, no one knows._ "As for Regina being straight, I think her tastes are widening."

"What does that mean?"

Ruby was slightly annoyed Emma didn't understand what she thought was a good turn of phrase. "It means I've seen the way she looks at you…I haven't seen her look at anyone like that since Daniel. Hell, I didn't see her smile, laugh or socialize until you blew into town. I don't think you realize how big a deal that is. So, yeah, if you need it spelled out: She likes you."

"She told you?"

"No, but it's obvious. Have you not seen the way she looks at you?"

Emma tried to think back. She knew what she felt for Regina and figured she looked like a love-struck idiot. Then she tried to bring up images of their time together. The meetings at the house, in her office. The cookout. _Oh._

"So now she's gay?"

"Well, for you she is."

"Really?" Emma looked skeptical, as if she were misunderstanding this. Surely this good fortune could not be destined for her.

"Tell me, professional lesbian, is there some magic age by which if you don't find yourself attracted to women, you'll never be?"

"No." Ruby tilted her head in a virtual _duh_. "Well, she's got a funny way of showing it," Emma added.

"I've known Regina a long time, she's scared. And when she's scared, she lashes out. You gotta admit, it's a lot to handle. She's a single mother and has been raising that boy alone since the womb. She's shut out her friends, she has no family, works full time and…Jesus, I'm sure she hasn't had sex in, what, probably four years." Emma blanched at the assumption. "And, now, when this very private person – yet also a public figure – finds someone she really likes, it's a woman and the chief of police."

"And that's the other thing!" Emma groused. "We can't be together. She must have an election to think about. She'd never win re-election if word got out she was sleeping with the Chief."

Narrowing her eyes, one corner of Ruby's lips turned skyward. "OK, first. Don't assume the town is homophobic because of the geography. I think you'll find it's surprisingly intelligent and accepting where that's concerned. And Regina's not elected."

"What?"

"She's appointed."

"But…" Emma stammered, mind blown. "I thought mayors were elected."

"It's a little confusing. In any other town, she'd be called the 'town manager.' Storybrooke restructured its government in the '80s and went from an elected mayor who ran everything to an elected five-person City Council/appointed town manager setup. The town was booming and at town meeting residents thought the structure would better-serve the town.

"You know an awful lot about politics."

"Granny was on City Council for years, I had no choice."

"So she's hired, just like me?"

"Right, the town – for whatever reason – really wanted to keep the mayor title, so they did. But, yes, she was hired by a search committee, approved by the City Council and has a contract just like you."

"That's pretty damn confusing."

"Heh, welcome to Storybrooke. But, bottom line: The City Council is your boss, ultimately, not Regina."

"So, I could…?" Emma trailed off, afraid to complete the question for fear she was reaching the wrong conclusion. Hope fluttered wildly in her chest.

"Yup. You could get together, just keep it low-key for a while, would be my advice."

It felt as if a huge weight had been lifted. A radiant smile split across her face, excitement racing down her spine. "I could be with her," she breathed, believing for the first time.

"Yeah, you could. Now, how do we make it happen?"

XXXX

Ruby stifled a yawn as she walked into preschool the following morning. She had been up late strategizing with Emma, then even later talking to Kathryn. The blonde had experienced a similar breakthrough across town, leaving both women very hopeful their friends were _thisclose_ to working out their differences and finally giving each other a try.

Hunter Humbert was extremely thankful that morning because it was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, which meant he got to go to school an extra day. Students in the two- and three-day classes were having a combined Thanksgiving pageant/open house for parents, which is why the boy was frantically pulling his mother toward the hallway. " 'mon Mom! Mom-Mom-Mom, c'mon!"

"Hunter, _relax_ ," she urged. The pair walked into the classroom, which had exploded in little-hands-made decorations of orange, brown and yellow. Spying friends, Hunter took off immediately, which left Ruby to greet his teacher. "Make sure you check out his thankful artwork," Miss Judy advised, pointing toward the wall. One entire wall was jammed with hand-drawn sheets of paper outlining what each child was thankful for. Ruby spotted Hunter's right away.

Obviously printed by the teacher, the top read **HUNTER IS THANKFUL FOR…** while the bottom read **A DOG**. In between was a large – if not abstract – hand-drawn picture of a brown dog, the one Hunter had been angling for all year and had yet to receive. _This child is slick_ , Ruby smiled. She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture to text to Graham. She scanned the other drawings, heart warming at the innocent earnestness on display: family, toys, grandparents, friends. Then her eyes rested on one that made her catch her breath.

**HENRY IS THANKFUL FOR…**

**MY MOMMA AND MY CHIEF**

In between was a picture of two large circles, each with two lines coming out the sides and two out the bottom, sandwiching a smaller stick figure. The big circle on the left had black Crayola hair, the big circle on the right was topped with an electrified rat's rest of canary-yellow crayon.

 _Holy shit._ Gaping, Ruby discretely raised her cell and snapped a pic, texting it without comment to Kathryn, just as Regina and Henry walked in. Ruby sauntered away before Regina could catch her near Henry's picture, taking a spot in the corner to see what happened.

"Momma, look!" Henry cried, pulling his mother toward his masterpiece. Regina smiled at his enthusiasm and switched her focus from her son to the picture on the wall. She gasped quietly, her heart melting and sinking simultaneously. From the corner, Ruby would swear she saw the woman sway slightly, rocked by the revelation.

"I…I love it, Henry. It's wonderful." Pleased with the compliment, Henry dashed off to play with friends, leaving Regina to stand and gape at her son's perception of their life. She realized she couldn't avoid Emma forever. Through 3-year-old force of will ( _fwee-and-a-half,_ she heard Emma imitate in her head), Henry had forced the woman into their family. Emma had become important to him and, ostensibly, he to her. Regina accepted that had to get over this pain; she couldn't deny her son any longer. She was unsure Kathryn was right about the allegedly temporary nature of Emma's relationship with the teacher, but she had to reach out. Ruby watched, fascinated and clandestine, as emotions and thoughts flashed over Regina's face. The woman soon turned and headed for the hallway pulling out her personal cell as she crossed the threshold.

More nervous than she had been in forever, Regina pulled up Emma's contact – under Favorites, no less – and hit Call, her heart hammering in her chest as the phone rang.

Over at the station, Emma was eating an embarrassingly large slice of Martha's pumpkin bread at her desk when her phone rang. She nearly choked when she saw the name.

"Regina? Are you OK?"

The brunette couldn't believe how eager, yet worried, Emma sounded.

"I'm fine. Is there any way you could spare an hour? I'm at Henry's preschool Thanksgiving pageant and I think you should be here."

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

"Are you safe? Is everything OK?" Emma narrowed her eyes in a blend of confusion and concern. Regina calls her for the first time in a month and calmly, quietly, asks her to come to Henry's school pageant? First reaction: Yay! Second: What the fuck?

 _Is everything OK?_ Regina paused, that was a good question. "It's…it's good. He'd…we'd…like you to be here." Her voice was so soft, Emma almost had to strain to hear her, a fact exacerbated by Nolan's voice suddenly booming out of the break room in an angry whine: "WHO ATE THE LAST PIECE OF PUMPKIN BREAD?"

 _And that's another reason to leave._ "I'll be right there." Emma ended the call and brushed any remaining crumb-evidence off her desk, then briskly walked out of her office, holding up a palm to an accusing Nolan before he could utter a word. "Gotta go. Meeting." She theatrically flung on her winter parka with POLICE emblazoned across the back in big, white, block letters as she rounded Martha's desk. "Call if you need me."

The dispatcher nodded, nonplussed; Emma already out the door, Nolan took her spot in front of Martha. "You got any more?" His lips were set in a disappointed pout. She opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the ring of the official line. "Storybrooke Police, you're being recorded…"

Nolan began to walk away when he heard the urgent, repeated snap of fingers. "…what's your address, ma'am?" He turned and saw Martha open up a desk drawer, pull out another cellophane-wrapped loaf and toss it to the officer. "…we'll get an officer there right away." Nolan pecked the woman on the cheek as he passed. Martha keyed the dispatch mic and tried to act as if she disliked the affection: "Alpha-2, what's your 20?"

Nolan was polishing off his first slice of pumpkin bread by the time Emma walked into Henry's classroom, which was bustling with the buzz of excited children and families – a riot of color, movement and sound. A staffer approached the slightly overwhelmed woman with a smile. "Good morning."

"Hi," Emma replied, scanning the room for Regina.

"Are you looking for your child?"

"I…uh…"

"Emma, hi."

The blonde nearly melted at the tender greeting she heard from behind. Her name hadn't slid from Regina's mouth in four weeks; it was like a balm on her raw soul. She beamed at the brunette who had sidled up next to her.

"Katie, this is my friend, Emma." Regina turned to the blonde, still smiling in nervous confusion as to her friend's mood and why she was here. "This is Miss Katie, one of Henry's teachers."

"Oh." Emma extended her hand. The woman looked exactly like a preschool teacher should: warm, friendly and welcoming.

"Henry's a wonderful boy. He's a lovely addition to our classroom." Katie turned her head, hearing her name called across the classroom and excused herself, leaving the two women alone, at last.

"Hi," Emma breathed, wondering if she looked like she felt: a love-struck idiot. "Um…"

"You're probably wondering why I called you."

"Kinda, but…I like that you called. I'm happy to be here," Emma rambled, worried that if she said the wrong thing, Madam Mayor would return at once. Regina gently grabbed Emma by the forearm and guided her to the wall of drawings. "C'mon, there's something I think you should see."

Across the room, as Ruby watched the women walk toward the wall of drawings, she felt her phone buzz. The message was from Kathryn, in reply to Ruby's earlier text of Henry's masterpiece.

**Game-set-match**

Emma took in all the pictures, scanning until she found Henry's. She inhaled sharply, her heart squeezing painfully. The boy's portrayal of himself, his mother and Emma sat naturally in between two other family pictures and below one little girl who was most thankful for Peppa Pig.

Emma opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. She didn't know what to say. _Was this good? Is she mad?_ Regina looked on in empathetic amusement, she had felt the same way about 15 minutes earlier when she first saw the drawing.

"My hair…I, uh…I don't think that's an accurate representation," Emma noted with a grin.

Regina gestured toward Emma's standard work-bun. "Well, not _now_." The two women simply stared at each other in wonder with soft, quizzical eyes.

"Families, if you'd follow us to the basement and take your seats." The announcement broke the women's twin reverie, Emma looking shocked by the request. _Families?_ While the blonde struggled to complete the thought, Regina's lips turned up at one corner as she nodded and understood: _Follow me._ She did just that, Regina leading them downstairs, to two seats in the corner in the very last row.

"Why are we back here?" Emma joked quietly. "I'd think you'd have some sort of throne up front befitting your position."

Regina scoffed and surreptitiously smacked Emma on the arm. This is good, Emma thought, trying not to get her hopes up. Banter is good.

"If you must know, Henry insisted I not sit up front or anywhere where he could see me." The brunette pretended to be affronted. "'Don't sit up front, I nervous,' " Regina imitated, affecting Henry's high-pitched voice.

"How does he even know what 'nervous' is?"

"I know, honestly."

"Good thing he made his intentions clear. I know you would camp out to get the best seat." Regina's heart warmed as Emma's tone was one of admiration, not mocking. "I'd keep you company. Protect you from bears or whatever wildlife roams around this town as we sat out in the cold dark."

"Please," she scoffed. "We haven't had a bear in this neighborhood in over a year."

"What?!"

"Families, if I could have your attention." Emma's sudden fear of bear-related attacks was interrupted as Henry's teacher stood at the head of the small hall/auditorium. "Thank you for joining us this morning. The children have been learning about Thanksgiving and are excited to share a few songs with the special people in their life."

Resplendent in construction paper Pilgrim hats and Indian headdresses, the preschoolers entered from the back of the room and made their way to the front to the sound of adoring sighs, "Awwws" and the sound of camera phone shutters clicking away.

Ruby slyly texted in her lap as she watched the women in the corner. They were so entranced with each other, she thought she could stand right in front of them waving and they wouldn't even notice.

**If you see a mushroom cloud of emotion over the preschool, it's our friends finally getting their shit settled**

_Bad?_

**Nooooo. They look like they want to jump each other on the spot.**

_Take video!_

Ruby paused to watch Hunter's class sing about turkeys. Oh God, this song. He'd been singing it at home for two weeks. Graham joked it was the worst ear worm he'd ever heard – and he was right: "ONE little, TWO little, THREE little TUR-keys / FOUR little, FIVE little, SIX little TUR-keys."

Ruby ensured the shutter sound was muted as she secretly zoomed in across the room and snapped a quick pic of the women. Both looked straight ahead, mouths slightly agape, every emotion flying across their faces. A piece of paper couldn't fit in between them, despite the fact there was plenty of room – they were the only two in the back row. No one, save for Ruby, was paying them any attention. Every other set of eyes was glued forward, staring the smiling chorus of 3-year-olds shout-singing about turkey overpopulation.

 **Look at this, then delete it.** Ruby attached the pic, then deleted the original.

_Hoooooly shit. Happy Thanksgiving._

**The Indians and the Pilgrims have made up**

_And look like they want to make out_

**God Bless America!**

_We are so crashing Mifflin on Friday_

**Huh?**

_I have an idea_

**Oh, Jesus, help me**

It was a surreal scene from the back row, Emma's brain trying to process far too much stimulation at once. She tried to concentrate on the enthusiastic, if not incredibly loud, 3-year-olds singing - _How are there this many songs about turkeys?_

While everything was loud on the outside, Emma remained stock still on the inside, feeling as if she were about to explode from the proximity to her brunette. She had ached for the woman for weeks and, suddenly, they were so close she could smell Regina's perfume and seemingly feel warmth radiating off her firm body. She was trying to concentrate on the program – something about Pilgrims now – when she shifted in her seat. Her right hand dropped between their chairs, her pinky accidentally grazing Regina's fingers. The touch was electric, prompting a soft, quick intake of breath from her right. Emma couldn't look at the woman, she was only human; she knew just one glance would overwhelm her resistance and cause her to gather Regina in her arms, begging for forgiveness for her still-cloudy crime.

She went to remove her hand and the accompanying temptation when Regina took the overcoat that was resting over her crossed legs and shifted it, covering the small gap in between their chairs. Cover secured, Regina linked her pinky with Emma's, her thumb gently rubbing the blonde's wrist a few times in reassurance.

A jolt of arousal flared in her core, a shudder of excitement and hope exploding across her chest like fireworks. She turned toward Regina, disbelieving, only to find the woman staring straight ahead at her Pilgrim-hatted son, excitedly chant-singing his tiny heart out: "The PIL-grims came to a-MER-i-ca, a-MER-i-ca, a-MER-i-ca …" Regina moved her head a quarter turn, dipping it in a shy grin toward Emma. The tiniest of physical contact felt incredibly hot and illicit, Regina couldn't believe the feelings it produced. She softly smiled back, bashful, the message clear: _It's OK. This is good._

It was beyond good, which is why Emma was disappointed to feel Regina's finger pull away to clap when Henry's song ended. She mirrored the motion out of politeness, although she really wanted to boo the kids for ending her not-so-public display of affection. Her ire was short-lived, the brunette sneaking her hand back under the coat, linking pinkies with Emma once again. She blew out a strangled breath. _Jesus Christ._

Pilgrims safely landed in America, the song – and the performance – was over. Parents were invited to partake of refreshments and mingle; Henry made a beeline for his mother and his best friend, still sitting in the back row.

"CHEEEEF!" he cried, flinging himself into Emma's arms so hard his hat fell off. "You here!"

"I wouldn't miss this, buddy." Emma's heart squeezed as he lumbered into her lap and flung his arms around neck.

"Hi, Momma. Did I do good?"

Regina smirked, surprisingly content with being an after-thought to her son. "You did very well. I loved it."

"Yeah, man, you were great."

"Sweetheart, do you want to go get a snack?"

Henry nodded and took off for the snack table. "Be right back!"

Regina turned, suddenly uncertain now that she was unable to hide behind the festivities. "Emma, I…"

"Not here." Her request was soft and gentle, she didn't want to have this conversation in a room teeming with dozens of people. "Can I take you guys for a ride? Could you play hooky for the afternoon?"

Regina considered the request. It was the day before Thanksgiving, town offices were closing today at 3 o'clock anyway. She didn't have any meetings or pressing business. "Yes," she smiled, pulling out her phone and dialing her office. "Laura? I'm taking the rest of the day off. I'll see you Monday. Happy Thanksgiving." Placing her phone back in her purse, Regina looked up. "I'm all yours."

Emma cleared her suddenly tight throat. "Uh, good. OK. Let me call the station and swap my cruiser for my car. I'll be back here in about 15 minutes. That OK?" Regina nodded as Emma stood, the blonde wishing she didn't have to leave, like it would break whatever magical spell she was under. "Fifteen minutes," she repeated to herself. "Yeah. Be right back."

XXXX

Emma called the station, informing Martha she was taking a personal half-day, then headed to her apartment to swap the cruiser for the Mustang and hastily clean out any detritus that had piled up: sweatshirt, pair of sneakers, two Red Sox hats and 17 coffee cups from Granny's. _Finally_ , she smiled to herself. _I get them in the car._ She pulled back into the school parking lot and found Regina talking to Ruby outside her Benz, Hunter and Henry playing tag and running in circles. The boys stopped, stunned, when they heard Emma's car rumble in and come to a halt.

"Whoooooooa!" Henry cried. "Cheef's car!" The boys rushed over to check it out.

"Hey," Emma greeted, eyeing Ruby as she jogged up to the pair. "Ready to go?"

Regina sucked in a short breath at her friend's appearance. Emma had let her hair down and had swapped the police parka for a red leather jacket. Nerves and arousal flickered in her stomach; Emma's lush curls had played a starring role in what she called her "nocturnal musings" regarding the chief. And that jacket? "Yes."

"Where are you two off to?" Ruby tried - oh God, she tried so hard - to bite back an all-knowing smirk.

"Goin' for a ride."

"Very nice, have fun. I'll catch up with you both later." She turned and called for her son, "Hunter, time to go."

"Henry, you, too."

"Would you let me into your car? I need to grab Henry's seat." Regina tossed Emma the keys and watched the woman remove the seat from her car and install it into the back of the Mustang while the boy bopped around excitedly. She quite enjoyed the view, unabashedly admiring Emma's firm backside sticking out of the door of the Mustang as she secured the booster in the back seat.

Ruby took a final glance at the pair as she pulled away, catching Regina check out Emma's ass. _Oh, for fuck's sake. If that kid wasn't there, that Mustang would be rocking like a hobby horse._

"Did you bring your car seat certification paperwork again? I'd like to ensure it's up to date," Regina teased.

Emma gave the seat straps a final pull and unfolded herself from the car. She walked around to the passenger side and held open the door for Regina. "Get in," she growled with a smirk. "Anyone here want a ride in my cool car?"

"Meeeeee!"

Henry scrambled into the seat, Emma buckling him in tight. Regina looked back from the front seat and nodded in approval. Last one in, Emma buckled up, then turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. She revved it a few times for Henry's sake. "Wow!" he squealed in excitement.

"It certainly is loud," Regina noted.

"I think you mean _cool_ ," Emma corrected. "Would you rather the chorus of screeching little people?"

"Good point." Regina appraised the interior. It was shiny, well cared-for and smelled like leather. Her slacks squeaked against the seat as she adjusted her posture and admired Emma deftly shifting through the gears as they drove out of town. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." Emma turned on the radio low, soft jazz filling the car to offset the silence. She expected Henry to do the deed, but he was apparently too mesmerized by the ride to speak. She could see him in the rear view mirror, swiveling his head right and left watching Route 1 North fly by out the window.

Emma laid her forearm on the center console her shifting hand palm up in a silent request. Picking up the signal, Regina removed the glove from her left hand and threaded her fingers in between Emma's. It felt warm, solid and safe.

The Mustang soon pulled up to a small beach in Camden. "Da beach!" Henry squealed. "Let's go to da beach!" Being late November it was overcast and cold, high 40s, but with no wind, Emma figured a beach walk would be a nice, calm setting for a talk.

"I don't have the right shoes," Regina noted, eyeing the landscape.

Emma's response was quick and serious. "I'll carry you." Regina had no doubt she would. She re-examined her boots; the heel wasn't that high. "I suppose they'll do."

Emma smiled, letting go of her hand and jamming a black winter beanie on her head. She reached in the back seat and pulled out a matching scarf to tie around her neck. "Henry, hat," Regina ordered. The boy grumbled as he put the hat on his head, but perked up when Emma opened the door and let him out of his seat. The beach was deserted, the harbor in the distance empty, all boats long removed for dry dock.

"Don't run ahead too far!" Regina yelled to her son's back as he sprinted onto the sand. Emma walked around the car meeting her with an extended hand, which Regina took. The women slowly, silently, walked hand-in-hand alongside the cold surf. Henry ran ahead with a fearsome cry, racing after seagulls who squawked off, annoyed at the rude interruption.

He'd return every few minutes or so, a chubby palm full of wet rocks and small shells. "Treasure!" he yelled excitedly, jamming the mess into Emma's palm. Her left pocket was quickly filling up with wet, sandy fortune.

"I feel like this is some horrible beach equivalent of deforestation," she chuckled. Those were the only words spoken between them since they began their walk. Both were afraid to break the silence. They knew something was going to happen.

Regina buckled first. "I'm so sorry. I feel terrible. I've been horrible to you."

Emma's first reaction was "It's OK," but swallowed the words before they could escape her mouth. It wasn't OK. She wasn't OK. It was a heart-wrenching month. "I just don't know why you were so mad, what did I do?" she choked out, suddenly feeling weepy.

Regina looked straight ahead, afraid to catch green eyes. "Nothing worthy of my behavior. It was me." She paused; this is it. "I'm scared."

"About?" Emma squeezed her hand for a touch of courage.

"I value your friendship so much…and I've developed…feelings for you."

Emma paused, making sure the brunette had finished her statement. "Feelings beyond friendship?" She tried to tamp down the burning excitement building in her chest. If she was wrong, this was going to be devastating.

"Yes." The confirmation felt heavy leaving her lips. "I've been alone for so long now, I wonder if I'm confusing friendship with something else, but I…I've never had feelings like this for a woman before."

"Does that bother you?" The pair giggled in unison as they watched a ruddy-cheeked Henry run toward the receding waves, only to shriek when they returned, stronger, roaring as they chased him further up into the beach.

The smell of salt water was thick in the air, the rhythmic thrum of the waves crashing against the sand hypnotizing. Regina felt like her heart was going to explode or hammer out of her chest; either way, she may not survive this conversation.

"Not that you're a woman. I find the more I think about it I…I like that."

Emma laughed, relieved. "I like that, too."

"It's just, I worried that I was confusing friendship with other feelings because I've been alone for so long. It's moot now, anyway. You have a girlfriend and—"

"I don't have a girlfriend."

Shocked at the statement, Regina stopped dead in her tracks. Emma jerked back slightly at the immediate loss of momentum, unaware the brunette had come to a halt. "But how–?"

Emma turned to face Regina, grabbing both of her hands, quickly wiping the one burdened by wet, sandy gifts on her thigh. She forced the brunette to hold her gaze: "You can't be with someone when all you want is someone else."

Regina sucked in a quick gasp but before she could respond, Henry ran up and crashed into their legs with a giggle. Emma stood shocked, while Regina smiled down sweetly at her son. "Sweetheart, would you find me a pretty rock for my desk?"

"Sure! Yeaaaaaaaaaaaah!" He set off for the poor gulls once more.

"What did you conclude: Your feelings for me, is it loneliness?" Emma braced for the emotional impact, afraid she might be crushed if the answer was yes.

"No." Regina stepped forward, her chest pressing into Emma's. "I have feelings for you because you're you. Because I'm attracted to you." Green eyes welled with moisture as Regina, suddenly brave with courage, continued. "You are smart and funny, kind and caring. When I'm not with you I find myself wanting to be with you. And when I'm with you all I want to do is touch you."

Emma dipped her head, her heart racing a mile a minute. She blinked, sending a few tears down her cheek. _It can't be. I can't believe it._ The blonde started to laugh nervously, unable to process her joy and form words. Regina took offense, immediately forgetting the last words out of her friend's mouth.

"Are you _laughing_ at me?" she spat, pulling her hands out of Emma's grasp. "I just told you my deepest feelings and you have the utter gall to—"

"No! No, Jesus, no. I can't…" The giggles picked up once again. Emma held up a hand asking for mercy, staving off Regina either storming away or slapping her face. "I…" Emma raised her eyes to Regina's once more; the brunette gaped at the sincerity and naked emotion on display. "I'm fucking crazy about you. Oh, shit, I said 'fuck.' Oh God, I said, 'shit.' I'm so sorry. I just…I want to be with you all the time but I thought you were straight and it hurt too much to spend time with you and Henry."

"So you're not dating the teacher?" Despite the actions and evidence of the day, jealousy flared in Regina's eyes at the mere mention of Emma's former lover. The green look was not lost on Emma, who thought it was adorable. She shook her head.

"I told her that I couldn't get over another woman. It was unfair to her."

"Where do we go from here?" Regina asked uncertainly, eyes wide and vulnerable.

Emma took a step closer and placed her hands on Regina's shoulders, pulling her close as she stared at red, lush lips and …

"I FOUND A ROCK MOMMA!" Both heads turned to see Henry run over with a smooth, surprisingly beautiful small white rock, the size of a marble. "You like it?"

The pair began laughing at the absurdity of the moment, their foreheads touching as shoulders heaved with laughter. The weight of risk and fear had lifted, replaced by excitement and hope. "I love it." He handed it over and sprinted away again calling over his shoulder, "Cheef, I find one for you!"

"You better not lose that rock, lady," Emma warned, leaning in for short, tender kiss, then pulled the brunette into an embrace, burying her head in Regina's neck. "Good God, I've wanted to do that for months."

Regina smiled, practically vibrating from desire, long-dormant emotions and physical responses roaring back to life. Emma's lips were so smooth and she swore she could taste the salt from the sea. "Was that OK?" Emma pulled back, unsure.

"Yes."

"Can I do it again?"

Regina beamed, affection beating so strong in her chest she worried it would crack. "Yes." Emma leaned in again, Regina in her arms, her lips gently exploring the brunette's, slipping and sliding gently, playfully pulling. She turned her attention from lips to eyes, gently pecking each eyelid, then her forehead and temple. Fisting handfuls of red leather, Regina could feel Emma's lips moving as she panted against her ear. "Jesus, Regina…"

"Hugs! Cheef, Momma, I want a hug, too." The dynamo came sprinting up, his face red from exertion. Each woman instinctively released an arm and reached out, gathering him into a now group hug. "Found your rock." Stubby fingers uncurled to unveil a light brown speckled specimen.

"It's awesome, thank you."

The boy looked up at the pair, "Swing me!"

"Want to head back?" Regina nodded, moving to the opposite side of Henry, each grabbing an arm. "1…2…3!" Regina called as they lifted the boy in the air, repeating the action all the way back to the car.

Energy depleted from the excitement of the class Thanksgiving party and an impromptu beach visit, Henry passed out in the back seat of the Mustang about 5 minutes after they pulled out of the parking lot. Emma and Regina held hands in giddy amusement all the way back to the preschool parking lot, where Regina picked up her car, following Emma and conked-out Henry back to Mifflin Street.

When they arrived, it was a mirror image of their return from the cookout, Emma scooping the sleeping boy out of his car seat – no mean feat in a two-door with bucket seats - and carrying him into the house.

"What are you feeding him?" Emma joked in a whisper. Regina removed his coat and hat while he remained, still sleeping, in the blonde's arms. Emma carried the child to his room and gently placed him on his bed. She took off his sneakers – which seemed to contain half the beach's apportion of sand - and laid a quilt over his body. Unconsciously knowing he was home, two fingers automatically disappeared into his mouth as he burrowed into the bed under the blanket. Turning to leave the room, she was surprised to find Regina hadn't followed her upstairs.

She set off down the stairs and found Regina sitting on the couch, in front of a newly made fire. They eyed each other with expectation: What on earth do we do now?

"We're going to have to change his sheets, I think he's got half the beach up there in bed with him," Emma grinned.

Regina sucked in a small gasp at the pronoun: "we." As in, "I will be here. I will help with the laundry. I will love your son. You don't have to do this alone anymore." She doubted Emma even noticed her choice of words, but they spoke volumes.

"You look really tired." Emma sat next to the brunette on the couch and took her hand. Now that she had held it, she seemed unable to stop.

"That's quite the line. Does that work on all the ladies?"

Emma chuckled in embarrassment. "I meant, you look like you could use a nap, too. I mean…damn, I just…" Now she laughed outright. "I am super smooth with the ladies, I will have you know."

"Oh, I believe it."

"But not anymore." Regina's brows dropped in confusion. She leaned forward and nuzzled into Regina's inviting neck. _God that feels amazing,_ the brunette thought, the smooth shock of hair rubbing her neck.

"I only want to work my charms on one woman," Emma admitted between kisses.

Emma could feel Regina grin. "You're right, I am tired."

"Ha! I knew it." Regina lightly pinched Emma's side. "Gah!"

"Don't gloat." Regina reclined the length of the couch and patted the empty space behind her. Emma wrapped herself around Regina in a microsecond, reveling in the day's events.

"This good?" Emma was unsure; she didn't want to move to fast in any aspect of this fledgling endeavor.

"You have no idea," came the deep, dreamy reply. The two women nestled into each other even further and promptly fell asleep.

They had been sleeping for a couple of hours when Emma felt a small body awkwardly – and familiarly – climb on the couch and up onto her side, draping itself over her.

"Hi, Cheef," Henry whispered loudly near her ear, trying to stay quiet but failing spectacularly. "You awake?"

Emma cracked an eye. As if a 30-pound wriggling weight wouldn't have broken her slumber. "Hey, bud. What's up?"

"Momma asleep?"

Emma looked down and saw a smirking Regina, her eyes squeezed closed. She was trying not to giggle.

"Yup."

"I miss-ded you, Cheef," the boy confessed sadly, as if it were a secret between the two of them. "You stay?" The question was so sincere and tender, Emma's heart squeezed painfully. She tightened her grip on Regina, who burrowed further into the blonde's strong arms.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Yay!"

Regina turned into Emma's embrace and stared adoringly into green eyes. Feeling an enormous wave of affection and desire, the brunette pushed herself up and boldly pressed a chaste, tentative kiss to Emma's lips.

Emma's hand reached up to cradle her face, smiling into the small, yet monumental, gesture. The mood was broken by an ebullient Henry. "Kisses!" he cried, scrambling over Emma's torso with little concern for his flying, socked feet, landing on the floor. "I kiss Momma!" He leaned in to peck his mother on the cheek, stealing her face from Emma. "Love you."

"Hey!" Emma protested with a smirk.

"I kiss you, too." Henry did just that, a loud, wet smack on her lips. "I love you."

His statement was so bright, sincere and matter-of-fact - _Duh,_ of course _I love you_ \- Emma could scarcely process it. Regina watched in wonder the impact that the three small words had on a grown adult. I-love-yous flew around the Mills house with abandon on a daily basis, but it was clear that Emma had grown unfamiliar with them over time.

Emma's throat felt tight and dry as child stared at her quizzically. "I…" she stammered, trying to find her voice, "I love you, too."

A big, toothy grin was her approval. "I have a snack?" _Right_ , Regina thought with a laugh, _now onto important matters._ "Yes, meet you in the kitchen." She shifted into a sitting position as Henry thundered out of the room. "Are you OK?"

Emma pulled herself up, mirroring Regina. "Yeah," she smiled. "I haven't said those words in a long time." Regina reached over and cupped Emma's face with one hand, caressing her cheek with a thumb. "You're wonderful."

"I want to be…for you, for him."

"Momma! Cheef! Snack?"

"C'mon." Regina grabbed Emma's hand and led her to the kitchen. "We have a boy to feed."

Seated in the kitchen, Henry was rewarded with two Oreos and a glass of milk. Emma looked at Regina expectantly and was awarded the same. Yay. "This seems like a silly question, but what are you doing tomorrow?"

Emma looked at her strangely. "Working?" As if there could be another answer. "I can't remember the last Thanksgiving I didn't work."

"That's so sad." Regina's heart sounded like it was about to break.

"Not really. I always worked because others had places to go." Regina looked like she was about to cry. "Awww, I'm OK." Emma threw an arm around Regina's shoulder and pulled her close. It felt so good, so natural, already. "It's not like I was missing anything. I'd crash friends' dinners after my shift. I got my turkey, don't you cry."

Regina caught Emma's gaze in a look of utter sincerity. She didn't have to say anything, her eyes spoke for her: _Your Thanksgiving is here. You are wanted here._ The brunette leaned over and initiated a tender, awkward kiss. It had been so long, she felt like a virgin once more, relearning how to kiss, how to love. Henry, for his part, was seriously eating Oreos - separating the cookies from the filling - completely unaware of the change in the relationship between his favorite women.

"What…" Emma began, clearing her throat. Regina was overpowering her with her actions in every way. "What are you guys doing?"

"It's just us. Usually Kathryn joins us but her parents are flying into Portland, she's meeting them there. I bought a small bird – we'll have plenty of turkey all winter."

Emma busted out her best flirtatious gaze. "Do you think I could, maybe come over after and help alleviate your turkey burden?"

"I'm counting on it," she smiled. "Wait, would you…" she stopped, suddenly unsure.

"What?"

"Would you perhaps stay over tonight? I could make us dinner and we could watch a movie? I know Henry would like it." Regina scooted closer and placed her hands on Emma's. "I feel like I just got you back and I don't want you to leave so soon. We could make up for lost time. I have the guest room, it's next to Henry's."

"No…right…yes. I mean, damn, absolutely. Guest room, yes." Emma shook her head as if to realign her ability to speak.

"What I said on the beach, about when you're not here, wanting you to be here, I meant it."

A soft smile crossed Emma's face. "I don't doubt it." She brought Regina's hand to her lips and kissed it. "I know this is all new to you and I want you to know: You set the pace. You do whatever feels comfortable. I am not rushing you into anything. I'm just happy being with you, do you understand?"

Regina pressed her lips to Emma's, a touch more bold and confident. "Yes. Are you happy kissing me, too?"

Emma snickered and threaded her hands into Regina's hair, pulling her gently in for a kiss. "You could say that."

XXXX

Post-dinner, Emma ran back to her apartment to trade the Mustang for her chief's cruiser and grab her patrol uniform, pajamas, a change of clothes and her portable gun safe. The trio soon found themselves on the couch, Henry smack in the middle in his footie pajamas.

"Neither of you have seen Toy Story? Seriously?"

Both Millses looked on confused. "Should we have?"

"Uh, yes. Let's fix that now." Emma draped her arm across the back of the couch and played with Regina's hair as the movie unfolded. Henry was fascinated with the bright colors and funny toys. Emma pretended something was wrong with the remote, fast-forwarding any time scary Sid had screentime.

"Regina, you need a new remote," Emma insisted.

"You're right, dear. I'm sorry," the brunette smirked, playing along.

Henry barely made it to the end of the movie, fading as Christmas and Andy's new puppy arrived. Emma jiggled the boy at the end. "What'd you think?"

"I loved it," he yawned. "To finity and beyond." He turned toward Regina. "Bedtime, Momma?"

"You must be tired if you're asking, baby boy." She stood and held out her arms. "C'mon." Regina expertly lifted the child into her arms, carrying him up the stairs as Emma followed close behind. She missed this. Teeth brushed and snuggled under flannel sheets, he sleepily accepted double kisses and twice the tucking in.

"Night, Mommas," he yawned. Four eyes widened at the plural as they hustled out into the hallway.

"I…"

Regina placed her finger on Emma's gaping lips and followed with a tender kiss. "I'm beat. I'm going downstairs and lock up, unless you want to hang out?"

"Of course I do, but I have to be up early. I'm covering Bell's day shift, she's going to her folks'. Bed's a good idea." Regina headed downstairs to shut off lights, ensure the fire was out and set the alarm while Emma brushed her teeth. They met again outside the guest room.

"If you need more blankets they're in the closet. Want me to set an alarm?"

"Don't worry about it, I'll set my phone."

"Do you want to tuck me in?"

Emma swallowed thickly. Holy shit did she. "More than anything, but once I'm in your bed, there's no way you're getting me out. I need to be a good girl and stay here."

"You're right. How did you get to be the sensible one?"

Emma shrugged her shoulders and smiled, stepping forward for a goodnight kiss. It was tender, yet insistent, communicating how she felt. No tongue, that was Regina's call. Emma's hands roamed the Regina's back in reassuring strokes as their noses bumped and nuzzled playfully.

"I can only be so good," Emma panted.

The brunette grinned and headed for the door. "Regina?" The query was tentative and soft. "Thank you for today." That seemed so inadequate, Emma thought. "I can't even…"

Regina held up her hand. "I know," she whispered, placing her palm over her heart. "I know. Good night."

"Night."

Emma Swan got into bed, the sheets clean and cool against her overheated skin. She closed her eyes in peace, utterly content for the first time in nearly two months, more thankful than she had ever been in her entire life. Happy Thanksgiving, indeed.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a massive hard drive crash over the weekend. Luckily, I backed up everything offsite, but it will take days to restore. I was able to go into my account and grab my massive notes file for this story, plus the beginning of Ch. 10, so it shouldn't set me back. If you want to follow me at leftsideofthecouch.tumblr.com I'll have updates, sneak peeks, etc. there. Thanks for your support and your kind words for this story. I love writing it.


	10. Chapter 10

The 5 a.m. alarm seemed even earlier than usual. Emma rolled over, cursing in her mind. She wanted to stay in bed, but not the one she presently occupied in the guest room.

No, she wanted to silently pad across the hall and slip under the covers of Regina's king sized bed. She imagined lush cotton sheets and the comforting weight of a warm, heavy duvet embracing her as she snuggled up behind the woman of her dreams, sleeping soundly.

She'd snake her arm around a slim hip, feeling Regina's warmth from chest to shin, drawing her petite frame into her own body, like two ends of a magnet pulled together. She would bury her nose in sleek, black hair, smelling mint shampoo and the scent of her clothes, her body, her house - the warm, homey fragrance she had come to associate with the brunette.

Regina would shift, half-conscious, registering two things: Emma's arrival and the desire to sleep longer. She would grab the blonde's arm and hug herself closer, quietly mumbling one word: "Sleep." Emma would smile and close her eyes, tucked into the woman she loved and peacefully drift off once more, as content as she had ever been.

Emma's phone alarm rang again, the snooze feature ripping her out of a pleasant daydream. Dammit, she wanted to cross that hallway and make her fantasy a reality but she couldn't: 1. She had to work in 2 hours. 2. She had promised Regina she could set the pace. In all her relationships, which fell into two categories - short-lived and incredibly short-lived - it had always been the other woman who wanted more: more dates, more sleepovers, more commitment, more everything. Emma had never felt the keening pull of love, the desire to drop everything and just be with another person. Until Regina. Robert once joked Emma couldn't even pronounce "U-Haul," but now? She didn't just want to rent a U-Haul truck immediately, she wanted to buy one.

Just 24 hours earlier, Emma woke up, alone in her bed, heartsick about breaking it off with Liz and wondering how to approach Regina. Now, the world had deliciously tilted on its axis.

She wished she could blow off her shift and stay here, watching the Macy's parade with Henry, helping Regina make dinner, getting lovingly shooed out of the kitchen for sneaking bites early. Her mood saddened until she realized she still could have that day, it'd just be around dinnertime. A bright feeling of hope radiated across her chest at the realization.

The tinkling bells of the alarm sounded a third time. _Fuck, all right._ Emma rose and rummaged through her duffle bag for her toiletries. _I'll just get through this shift, it will go quick and quiet, and then I will be back here to enjoy Thanksgiving with the people I love._

Emma walked into the hallway and startled. Standing outside her bedroom was Regina, cute and still sleepy in a grey cotton robe. The beautiful, make-up free face smiled at her through a yawn, impossibly gorgeous, even half-conscious and sleep-mussed. Emma longed to take her to bed and snuggle the morning away. Policing and turkey be damned.

"Hi," she whispered, aware of Henry sleeping one room over. "I'm sorry, did my alarm wake you? You didn't have to get up."

Regina approached the blonde and hugged her, reveling in the sheer freedom to do so. She snuggled into Emma's athletic frame, covered by a well-loved grey sweatshirt and blue-striped pajama pants. She smiled with a sigh and moved slightly, feeling Emma's breasts move with her. _Wait._ Her brain caught up to the situation. _She's not wearing…those are her…_ A rush of warmth and intimacy overcame the brunette, one thought on her mind: _I wish she didn't have to go to work._

Emma hummed and enjoyed the feel of comfortable fabric under her fingertips, her hands resting on Regina's lower back. She was aching to dip them lower, ghosting them over a firm ass and grabbing two handfuls. Mine. She scraped up a remaining shred of self-restraint and held back. _The waiting is going to kill me._

"This is so cruel," she whined with a yawn.

"I know, but you have to go police my town."

"Your town?" Emma chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

Regina pulled back and brushed her lips over Emma's.

"This is not helping," she warned. "I have to get in the shower."

Regina lifted an eyebrow lasciviously with a haughty smirk.

"No!" Emma laughed in a whisper. She figured Regina was kidding, shower-sharing was quite the leap from the relatively chaste kissing they had so far enjoyed. She's hadn't even dared try to French the woman or cop a feel. "You don't have to get up, sleep in. Go back to bed, I'll see you tonight."

Emma pecked Regina on the cheek and walked into the bathroom, her restraint nearly gone. One more kiss and she'd take her up against the wall. Regina grinned. When she heard the shower running, she made her way downstairs. If her girlfriend – girlfriend! she squealed to herself – had to work early, the least Regina could do was make her breakfast.

Showered and changed, Emma headed downstairs, surprised by – and then following - the scent of brewed coffee and bacon. She walked into the kitchen, a bobby pin in her teeth, securing the final strands of her bun. "Oh my Lord."

She spied her girlfriend – girlfriend! she smiled – sitting at the table in her robe, chewing daintily on a piece of bacon as she read The Mirror. The empty seat across from her bore pancakes, bacon and coffee. Regina looked up at the appreciative exclamation and gaped. There stood Emma in her patrol uniform: tie, shiny badge, utility belt, boots and crisp patrol blues.

"What?" Emma looked down at her shirt, then at her shoulders. "What did I miss?"

"No…no, nothing's wrong, it's just, I've never seen you in this uniform before," she breathed. She'd seen Emma in her dress blues, but most of the time she wore the business-casual khaki Dockers and blue SPD-issued Polo.

"Oh, yeah, well, in a patrol car today, gotta wear it." Emma cocked her head at Regina's dreamy expression. "You like?"

"Yes," she husked, walking over. Deep down, Regina knew Emma already radiated a sensual, masculine energy but this – this – this was a whole other level of rugged sensuality. Regina ran her hands appreciatively down Emma's firm biceps and straightened her tie – which was already perfectly straight – wrists providing delicious pressure against the blonde's firm chest.

"Oh my God, you're a Badge Bunny?" Emma laughed at her amazing fortune.

"What's that?"

"A woman who's attracted only to cops."

"Definitely," she purred. Surprised by the jolt of arousal the uniform sparked, she pulled a shocked Emma down by the tie into a thorough kiss. For the first time, Regina gently poked her tongue out, stroking it against Emma's lips, which opened immediately. Emma met it with her own, caressing gently, a throb instantly flaring in her core. Regina tasted like hazelnut coffee and smelled like a warm bed on a lazy Sunday morning.

Emma pulled away regrettably, panting. "Huh…oh, God. I…I…Regina, wait." The brunette pulled away, chest heaving. Emma smirked and reached into her breast pocket, pulling out a pair of reflective aviator glasses. Slipping them on, she adopted a stern voice and inquired in her best serious cop voice, "Ma'am, do you need any assistance?"

Grinning wolfishly, Regina pushed Emma back and up against the refrigerator, pinning her solidly, Emma's duty belt pressing awkwardly over her bellybutton. She snaked her tongue back into the blonde's chuckling mouth. Emma Swan was never much for religion, but at the moment she wondered which god she should thank for this amazing blessing. _Fuck it, I'll thank 'em all._

The blonde had painful decisions to make from time to time, but at the moment she couldn't think of one more unpleasant than the knowledge this delicious early morning make-out session had to end. If it went on any longer she'd be tempted to quit her job altogether and head upstairs to ravish her girlfriend. Plus, Emma figured she had about three more minutes before she'd need a new pair of underwear.

"Sweetheart, hold up…stop." Regina pulled away sulking, nipping at Emma's bottom lip. "Oh my God, are you pouting?" She laughed at the Mayor of Storybrooke sporting a rather pathetic look, bottom lip jutting out.

The brunette tried to look mad at the turn of events, but couldn't withhold the smile that turned up the corners of her lips. "No."

Emma tucked the sunglasses back in her pocket, pushed herself off the fridge and pecked Regina on the cheek. "Liar." She sat and took a first, rich sip of coffee. _All that before caffeine. Lucky me._

"You know I didn't want to stop," she soothed, digging into her pancakes. "I wanted to quit the job I love, leave the town to its own devices, take you upstairs and spend the day in bed with you." Regina nodded, mid-sip. "But I feel we have some things to talk about in that regard. And, you know, Henry is sleeping upstairs." Her voice dropped in sensual promise as she held brown eyes in a steady gaze. "And when I do take you to bed, believe me, you're not going to want him within a half-mile."

Regina's mouth gaped into a perfect o while Emma laughed joyously in between bites of bacon.

XXXX

It had been a pretty quiet holiday shift as Thanksgivings go, Emma mused, as she sat in her cruiser on her lunch break. Calling a wrecker for a minivan out of gas was the highlight. She had run into the grocery store – the only place open - just before the early noon close to grab a sandwich, passing floral on the way out. Her eyes landed on a large seasonal arrangement when she got an idea. She sped over to the floral counter with her lunch.

"Hey, could you ring me up here?"

"Sure."

"Do you guys have any roses?"

The florist looked in the empty refrigerated display. "Let me check out back." She disappeared then returned with a handful.

"Last dozen."

Emma smiled at her ingenuity, she bet Regina would love flowers. "I'll take them."

 _I have the best-smelling cruise_ r, she thought with a grin. She chuckled, anticipating Leroy's reaction when he hopped in for Bravo shift. Heh. She was parked at the harbor, eating a ham-and-cheese wrap in her car, the wind whipping off the water, whitecaps peaking, the waves dull and gray. If she had to eat in a car, at least the view was nice. She pulled out her phone to pass the time, then realized she knew of one other law enforcement official who was most likely eating his lunch in his cruiser at the very same time.

She snapped a picture of the blustery harbor and sent it off without remark.

The response was quick. **Pretty. Looks fuckin freezing, tho.**

She hadn't spoken to Robert in a week; he'd moved to nights for several days, the opposite schedules conspiring against them. She had news, it was time to share. Chuckling as she typed, Emma wondered how quickly her phone would ring in response to:

_I want to buy a U-Haul._

Within 30 seconds, N.W.A blared.

"With the teacher? Get out!"

"No, we broke up."

"What? Then who?"

She let him figure it out, remaining silent. She could hear him chewing and ostensibly thinking on the other end of the line. "What the hell are you eating?" she asked.

"Pumpkin muffin from Dunks. This shit's like crack."Suddenly, he gasped. "Mayor Mightyfine?"

"Mmm hmmm." She tried to disguise the absolutely joy in her hum and failed spectacularly.

"Get the fuck out! When? How? I thought she froze you out."

"Well, she thawed yesterday. Invited me to Henry's school pageant. We talked and she admitted she had feelings for me."

"And you for her."

"Just a bit," Emma laughed. "I stayed over last night and —"

"Girl, didn't she just figure out she's a vagatarian? Give her a break. She's gotta, like, process and stuff."

Emma snickered. "I didn't sleep with her, dummy. I mean, Jesus, I want to, but I told her she sets the pace."

Robert laughed. "You're a real gentleman, Swan."

"I just bought her flowers, I'm going over for Thanksgiving dinner after my shift."

"Look at you, all romantic and shit. When's the last time you bought a lady flowers?"

"Can't remember."

"Ooooooh, Swan, you got it baaaaaad. I love it!" He practically giggled, his baritone ringing out merrily. "You're gonna be a wife and mama, fixing shit around the house with your big 'ol butch tool belt, killing spiders, building bookcases and shit…" He couldn't continue, collapsing into more laughter.

"I don't know why I talk to you."

"You love me, woman."

"True."

"I gotta meet this amazing specimen soon. The Woman Who Bagged Emma Swan: Damn, she must be magic."

Emma pictured Regina as she left her that morning, adorable in her pajamas and robe. It was all so domestic, Regina seeing Emma off with a kiss as she left for work. It was a situation she never thought she wanted, until now. "She sure is."

"Oh my God, you are so fucking gone. I love it." And he did. Robert considered Emma family and worried she'd be a lone wolf until the end of her days. He'd approved of some of the women she'd dated before, but no one lasted long – and no one had turned her head and captured her heart like Mayor Regina Mills. I have to meet her.

The sharp squawk of the cruiser radio cut off Emma's response.

"Delta-1, 10-7?"

Emma wiped her mouth and tossed her sandwich wrapper in a bag. "Hold up man." Keying the mic she replied, "Negative."

"Delta-1, 10-16, 318 Pitney."

"10-4, 10-16, 318 Pitney."

"Got a call, gotta go, domestic."

"On Thanksgiving? Heh, you have fun with that one. Alright, give my best to the missus." He ended the call before Emma could tell him to go screw.

Emma hit the lights and flew to the address – domestic calls on Thanksgiving tended to be uglier than normal. She arrived at the modest ranch to find a man screaming and pounding at the front door.

"LET ME IN YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES, I WANT MY DINNER!"

"Hey!" Emma yelled, approaching the walkway, pulling on her leather gloves. "What's the problem?"

"My FUCKING PARENTS won't let me in for turkey." Emma saw a first-floor curtain part and a set of eyes peek out.

"Alright, man, chill. What's your name?" She stepped closer and assessed the suspect: mid to late 20s, disheveled, wild-eyed, several days' worth of stubble, angry and erratic. She knew that look: tweaker.

"Marc."

"You live here, Marc?" She took one step closer, slow and easy.

"No, THEY KICKED ME OUT." The man turned to the house, mania seeping out of his pores as he screamed his answer at the locked door. Emma used the time to subtly key the mic on her winter patrol jacket and issue a quiet request for backup. "Alpha-1, Delta-1. 10-78, 10-100-64, 108 Pitney."

"10-4, Delta-1 10-76." Emma sighed internally. _Thank God, Nolan would be here soon, this guy isn't going down without a fight._

The man looked back at her, pleading. "Aren't you going to make them let me in?"

"I can't force them, Marc." She tried to sound as calm as possible, hoping her tone might influence his. "When did you get kicked out?"

Frustrated, he ran a hand through his short brown hair, then rubbed his neck erratically. "Dunno, can't remember exactly. Couple of months ago."

"You work in town? Where are you staying now?"

As the man began pacing, Emma sized him up. He was about her size, thin and wiry. But when a person was high on meth, he could have the strength of three men and none of their common sense.

"Crashing with friends, I do some day work down on the docks and..." His answer was cut off by Nolan's arrival, announced by his cruiser quietly pulling up behind Emma's and the soft thud of the driver's side door as the officer stepped out. The suspect's mood suddenly altered from suspicious to completely paranoid.

"Who's this?" he yelled, stabbing at the air in Nolan's direction. "Why is he here?"

"I figured you might want to talk to a guy, you know, man to man." Nolan approached slowly, his eyes never leaving the suspect. His palms hands were splayed in front of his chest as nonthreatening as possible.

"You're trying to take me in," he hollered, angered at the betrayal. "You want to take me to jail!"

Emma put her palms up and out, mimicking her colleague's body language. It had been a while since she had to subdue one of these crazy fuckers. _I hope Nolan is up to date on his takedown training._

"No. No way. We just want to talk, I'll give you a ride wherever you want to go."

Nolan examined the scene. This freak was either going to do two things: go after them or try to force his way into the house. Marc quickly chose the latter.

"I'M NOT LEAVING UNTIL I GET MY FUCKING TURKEY!" He spun and ran surprisingly fast toward the large living room picture window. The officers took off hot on his heels trying to catch him before he could crash through it and slice himself to ribbons. They caught him just as he leapt to jump, dragging the man to the ground in a heap.

Nolan nearly had him restrained when one of the suspect's limbs kicked free, allowing him to break free. Emma scrambled and dove, grabbing Marc by the ankle, slamming him to the ground on his stomach. Defensively it was a terrible position as she had to dodge his free foot, which was kicking blindly in an attempt to dislodge her. The toe of his boot nailed her on the forearm, which while painful stopped him from struggling long enough for her to jump on his lower back. Unfortunately, as she went to grab one arm, the tip of his wild-swinging elbow on the other nailed her straight in the eye.

"Unh!" she yelled, rolling off the man, temporarily blinded by pain and defensive tears.

Unable to see, she heard Nolan tackle the man once more, grunting as the suspect was secured in a hold. "You alright?" Nolan asked.

"I will be, can't see right now." She rose off the ground on all fours, trying to get her bearings and will her good eye open; it had slammed down in solidarity with its injured companion, tears leaking out in protection. "You got him?"

Emma heard Marc struggling, the sound of limbs flailing against the cold, hard ground. "Yup," he answered, followed by the tell-tale sound of cuffs clicking around a wrist. "Let me get him in the cruiser, I'll be right back."

Marc swore all the way to the cruiser as he was arrested and read his rights. His drug-addled rants mercifully stopped when he was pushed in the back seat and the door slammed. By the time Nolan returned, Emma was sitting up, blinking. He tossed her an ice pack, already cracked and cold. "Better ice that or it's gonna swell something fierce. You think you can drive?"

"Yeah."

"I put him in your cruiser, why don't you take him to the hospital and while you're there get that checked out. I'll talk to the parents and handle the paperwork." He reached down, grabbed her by the forearm and helped her to her feet.

"Sounds good."

As she walked to the car, she heard her name. "Chief?" She turned and one-eyed spied a grinning Nolan. "You gonna make Bell pay for his?"

Emma smirked and nodded, Nolan's hearty laugh echoing as she swung into the driver's seat and hit the lights. "Hey, Marc," she called sternly toward the back seat. The man was laying flat across the bench seat, Nolan must have zip-tied his ankles once he was in the cruiser. "You see those flowers on the floor back there?"

"Yeah?" His voice was much quieter, the adrenaline wearing off, the fight sobering him up a touch.

"They're for my girlfriend. Fuck them up and _you will not like_ how I transport you into detox, got it?"

"I didn't touch them!" Now he sounded scared. "They're fine. I'm sure…I'm sure she's going to love them. That's very romantic."

Emma chuckled. _You never know what you're going to get with a tweaker._ "I thought so."

XXXX

**Will be a little late. Busy day. Be home by 5:30.**

Five seconds after Emma sent the text she realized her wording. Home? _Shit, I hope that doesn't freak her out._ She tried to think up an explanation if it was questioned. _The damn phone deleted some words, it should have read 'I'll be at your home by 5:30.' Ha, ha, technology, right? Sheesh._

Regina was carefully placing cut-up squash in a pot of boiling water when she heard her phone buzz with a new message. She placed the cover on the pot, wiped her hands on her apron and pulled up the message. Her heart warmed as she sent a reply.

_Home will be happy to see you then._

Emma grinned. _Guess I don't need that explanation._

Setting the cover on the boiling squash-filled pot, Regina assessed her situation. Henry was playing in another room and she was dressed – blouse, slacks and apron – cooking Thanksgiving dinner in anticipation of Emma's return. Her kitchen was organized chaos: it all seemed so right, so filled with promise. She realized she was so damn happy; grateful tears welled in her eyes.

Previous Thanksgivings all seemed awkward and forced, as if cooking a turkey was an obligation not a celebration, like her first without Daniel. Henry was an infant and Kathryn came over to help her cook. Except the women drank too much wine, too early and forgot about the turkey, which was then dried out beyond repair. They laughed until they cried, and then Regina just cried as this was not how her first Thanksgiving with her child was supposed to go. She was supposed to be cooking for her husband, fighting over the wishbone and changing diapers, not crying into her friend's embrace as her infant wailed in solidarity in the background. Subsequent years were better – they learned to pace each other on the wine front – but still had a deep vein of melancholy running through. Until now.

The timer dinged, snapping her out of her reverie, returning to a much happier, more hopeful, time and place. No, today she was truly thankful, for the first time in years.

XXXX

Regina heard the doorbell and tried to will herself to walk, not run, to answer. Henry beat her easily, charging full-tilt out of the parlor. "Cheef's here! Cheef's here!"

She pulled the door open, beaming, joy morphing into panic when she saw her girlfriend's face.

"My God, what happened?"

"I'm OK."

"You don't look OK!" Regina was veering close to a shriek, spying Emma's swollen eye, which was starting to darken.

Henry initially was awed by Emma's patrol uniform; like his mother, he had never seen her in it. "Wow!" He ran his tiny hands along her duty belt, tapping her nightstick, jiggling her handcuffs. "I like this," he noted in awe. The boy looked skyward for a response and spying her face, held his arms high in a silent request to be picked up. "You got a boo-boo," he noted sadly, hugging her once at eye-level.

"I do, but I'll be OK."

"I kiss it." He leaned in and gently kissed her brow. "It's cold!" he giggled.

"Cold helps make it better."

"Play trains with me later?"

Emma was starting to love the simple thought processes of a preschooler: You're not dead? Good, play with me.

"Yeah and we have a parade to watch together, too, right?"

"Yay!" He hugged her one more time and then wriggled to be set down. As soon as Henry was out of Emma's arms, Regina was in them, embracing her tightly.

"What happened?" Alarm had been replaced with concerned brown eyes. Regina skimmed her fingers over the ice-cold, swollen flesh. Emma grinned. "First things first." She kissed Regina thoroughly, lips slipping and sliding slowly, noses nuzzling. "Mmmm, I feel better already. God, I've been thinking about that all day."

The loving statement momentarily caused Regina to forget. "Emma…" she warned.

"It's not a big deal, I got elbowed by a junkie."

"How on earth…"

"I was sent to a domestic call over on Pitney. Grown, estranged son was not invited for turkey. Shows up anyway. Parents call the cops. I show up…" Emma imitated a trumpet fanfare, "and he's all tweaked out. I call Nolan for backup, the guy freaks thinking we're bringing him to detox."

"What do you mean 'tweak'?" Emma loved that someone in her life did not know the definition of that word.

"Someone who has taken meth for a few straight days, no sleep, crazy paranoid and jumpy."

"Lovely. Shouldn't holidays be slow when it comes to police calls?"

"You'd think so but, no - especially Thanksgiving, Christmas and Mother's and Father's Day. Domestic calls are common and usually really ugly."

"That's terrible."

"I agree. So, long story short, I call Nolan for backup, he shows up, the guy tries to jump through the picture window. We subdue him and as I was trying to cuff him, he threw an elbow and caught me in the eye."

Regina carefully traced the wound with her fingertips. "Did you see a doctor?"

"Yeah, after I dropped him off at the detox ward, I went to the ER. Nothing's broken, no blood in my eye or blurred vision."

"What about a concussion?"

"I don't think I took that hard a hit. But they checked me out. Got the all-clear."

Regina embraced her girlfriend once more, hugging her tight.

"You know what would make me feel better?"

Regina pulled back and narrowed her eyes warily. "What?"

"Turkey." Emma smiled wide.

"Well, then, Dr. Mills has just the thing for you…" Regina giggled and leaned forward, their foreheads touching.

"Let me get a quick shower, change and I'll be right back down. I won't be wearing the uniform tonight, wanna get a good look before it comes off?" she teased, slowly turning in a 360. Regina eyes were hungry as she watched every degree of the turn. "Oh, I almost forgot."

Emma walked back to the door and rescued the bouquet she had placed on the ground when she picked up Henry. In all her panic, Regina hadn't noticed Emma was carrying a dozen roses.

"For you."

"When did you…" She trailed off, amazed by the gesture. She couldn't remember the last time someone brought her flowers.

"I have my ways," Emma smiled cagily.

"They're beautiful."

"Then they're perfect for you." She bussed Regina on the tip of her nose and headed for the stairs.

Emma ran upstairs to shower and change, entering the kitchen 20 minutes later in a cable knit sweater and jeans. "I didn't bring nice pants, I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I wanted to look nice for your dinner."

"You're gorgeous." Regina's reply was instant and so sincere Emma blushed.

"Stop," she smiled bashfully, "you're making me all red."

Regina chuckled as she stirred the gravy. "My big, tough, junkie-fighting cop can't take a compliment? How cute."

My cop. A shiver of electricity ran through Emma's torso at the possessive comment. Emma walked up behind the brunette and rested her head on Regina's shoulder, winding her arms around a trim waist. "That smells amazing. You smell amazing." She tilted her head and kissed Regina on the neck with a hum. "Have you been cooking all day?"

"I smell like turkey," she laughed. "Yes, most of it."

"Can I help?"

Emma set the table and started ferrying dishes to the dining room while Regina carved the golden brown bird. Henry sat at the head of the table, Regina and Emma facing each other on either side, the dozen roses in the center of all the food.

"Dig in," she smiled.

Emma's head swam with sheer contentment as she ate. Regina smiled at the woman who looked like the picture of peace. "What are you thinking about?"

"Past Thanksgivings." She carefully loaded her fork once more, trying to find the perfect ratio of turkey to potatoes to dressing. "Are there oysters in the stuffing?"

Regina nodded, while Emma hummed in approval. "God, it's good. Anyway, I would always be invited to join someone's dinner after my shift. And I always felt like a guest. People were nice, you know, but I didn't belong, if that makes sense. I was always 'Emma, so-and-so's friend from work.'"

She chewed, reflecting on the questions others would kindly ask – they always fell into two categories: What's it like being a cop? and Where are you from? The latter always transitioned into the ever-awkward "Do you have family in the area?" the unasked "and why aren't you with them?" implied. Emma learned early on to simply lie and say her family was across the country; it was just easier for everyone.

"But here…" _Emma paused. Is this too much, too soon? Will I scare her?_ Emma hadn't done relationships, but even she realized that problems usually stemmed from too little honesty, not too much. She reached across the table and held out her hand, Regina meeting it with her own. "I don't feel like a guest here. I feel like I am wanted, like I belong."

Regina nearly gasped, the naked emotion on display across the blonde's face. "You are wanted. You do belong." The strong, commanding voice belied the gentle smile on her face.

"I…love…you….CHEEF!" The 3-year-old's non sequitur grew in volume and excitement, the last word practically hollered. The women laughed, looking at each other in confusion. _Was he listening? How on earth could he understand?_

"Love you, bud." Emma smiled to herself. The response, practically choked out in astonishment just yesterday, felt so natural and right today. "This is the best Thanksgiving Day ever."

"Even though you got punched in the face?"

"Definitely."

With his mother and his idol entranced with each other, Henry tried to sneakily slide out of his seat and the room.

"Darling, finish your turkey and one more bite of squash and I'll bring out dessert," Regina directed, never once looking in his direction, her eyes trained on loving green across the table.

"That was a little scary," Emma laughed. "C'mon, man, you can do it. I want dessert, too."

"Don't wanna." Henry's bottom lip turned out in a determined pout as he huffed back into his seat. The women tried not to laugh, it was more adorable than annoying.

"C'mon. For me? Do you know police officers need to eat a lot of squash?" This was true, at least, in Emma's case, she loved it. "I'll take a bite with you."

Emma loaded up a big forkful for herself, Henry followed suit to a lesser degree. "1…2…3!" Both diners ate their food, Henry swallowing with a proud grin.

"Yeah! You did it! Nice job!" Emma praised, offering him a high-five. Regina watched, impressed. It would have taken her at least 10 more minutes of bargaining to seal the deal. Upstaged, she returned her napkin to the table. "Be right back."

XXXX

Post dessert, cleanup and dishwasher loading, the trio was seated in what was becoming Emma's favorite spot – on the couch in front of the fire. Henry again sat in between the women, draped over both of them as if to claim possession: _They're mine._ Emma's arm once more snaked over the back of the couch, bypassing Henry, her fingers landing in Regina's sleek, black hair, playing with it idly as floats, minor celebrities, advertisers and bands colorfully marched by thanks to the DVR'd Macy's parade.

Henry lasted an hour before Emma heard him snoring softly on her lap, resplendent in blue and green fleece pajamas that featured historically accurate dancing dinosaurs. Regina watched as the blonde stared at the boy with a look of awe, gently brushing the bangs out off his closed eyes.

Emma felt Regina's gaze, so strong it nearly hummed. "I'll take him up," Regina whispered. "Be right back." Emma helped lift the boy into his mother's practiced embrace, then leaned back against the couch, the scent of turkey still heavy in the air, trying to sort out what she wanted to say and how she wanted to say it. Before a finished draft was complete in her head, Regina returned and curled herself into Emma's embrace on the couch.

"Hi," the brunette purred, her lips meeting Emma's languidly. The blonde could detect pumpkin and coffee on Regina's lips and tongue, which were slowly mapping every centimeter of her mouth. It was like making out with her favorite cup of coffee.

"Mmmmm, you taste amazing."

Regina purred in response, as her hands wound themselves into Emma's hair. She somehow maneuvered herself under Emma, her legs instinctively capturing Emma's thigh between them. While Regina's mind wasn't quite sure what to do – she figured the blonde curls were an easy location – her body certainly did. Lost in sensation, Emma began licking and kissing a path down Regina's neck, inviting moans and a slow roll of the brunette's hips against her leg. Regina could feel the heat of arousal flaring higher than it had in years, sensations and desire mounting quickly.

When Emma's lips and tongue reached the end of the opening of the brunette's shirt, they stayed put, licking and sucking just south of her collarbone, as her hands slowly moved down Regina's torso to the sides of firm, generous, and unfortunately bra-clad breasts. Emma groaned in appreciation as she lustily grabbed a handful, thumbs ghosting over points straining under the surface. It felt so good Regina gasped with need.

She was about to undo the top straining, taunting button of Regina's shirt when she realized: _Shit. Shitshitshit._

"I'm sorry," she panted, removing her hands and sitting up and off the brunette. "I didn't mean—"

"What, did I—"

"No, I…just…hold on." Emma sat up, flushed and grabbed one of Regina's hands to steady her. "I said yesterday you set the pace and here I was about to rip your shirt off." Regina smiled coyly, that didn't sound like a bad idea at all. "I know it's been a while since you've been in a relationship." She tried to find the phrasing that would be least painful or insulting to her girlfriend and hoped that did the trick. "And I'm guessing you've never been with a woman."

Regina nodded, cheeks stained red with want and need. "I just want to make sure you take your time and don't feel rushed into anything – physically or emotionally." Emma found brown eyes and held them, hoping to underscore the importance of her message. "I want this. I want you. And I don't want to mess this up by rushing into it or pushing you before you're ready."

Dipping her head bashfully, Regina grabbed Emma's other hand. "You're not going to mess this up. Do you know me as someone who just leaps into something without thinking? Especially when it involves her son?"

Emma shook her head then looked away, the reassurance not as comforting as Regina had hoped. "It's just…I don't know how to love very well. I've never felt like this before about anyone. I've never wanted a relationship like I want with you."

"Well, you're in luck," she smiled, squeezing their joined hands for comfort. "I do know how to love very well."

"I can't stand the thought of hurting you… or Henry. I can't hurt him Regina, I just can't." Emma's face twisted at the very thought.

"Are you planning on going anywhere soon?"

"No." The response was steadfast and serious.

"Then he won't get hurt. I won't get hurt. And you have nothing to worry about." Regina pulled her girlfriend in for a hug, rubbing her back soothingly. She felt Emma yawn over her shoulder. "C'mon, let's go to bed."

Emma pulled back. "Huh?"

"We're going to bed. You. Me. My bed." She stood and pulled Emma up by the hands. "You are going to snuggle with me and fall asleep with me in my bed because I cannot stand the thought of you in the guest room for a second night. Got it?"

Emma nodded dumbly and let herself be led upstairs. She changed in the main bath while Regina departed for the en suite, emerging makeup free and pajama-clad, a bookend to their meeting in the hall that morning. She climbed into her side of the bed and turned down the sheets on the other side, patting it. Emma sank in and groaned internally, the damn thing was even more comfortable than she imagined and every inch smelled like Regina, as if having the real article 6 inches away wasn't good enough.

The brunette's eyes sparkled brightly as she eyed her bedmate. She stroked one side of Emma's face with her hand and thumb and pulled her into a chaste kiss. "How's your eye? You OK?"

"More than OK," Emma smiled.

"Good." Regina settled on her side and pulled Emma's arm around her torso. The solid, blanketing weight behind her felt so natural, so comfortable, so right. It had been so long. "I assume you're the big spoon?" Regina teased.

Emma chuckled, pulling her tighter, sinking her nose into smooth black hair. "You could say that."

Six hours later, still tucked into Regina, Emma fought to resist the pull of consciousness sparked by a gentle tapping on her temple.

"You in my spot," came the stage whisper from the boy who was straddling her hips like a horse.

A mumble was the only response.

"Cheef, you in my spot."

Emma grunted and rolled away from Regina, just enough to fit Henry. She patted the mattress with a sleepy groan, the child happily wedging himself in between his two favorite women, chasing Emma back into slumber as she flung an instinctive, protective arm back over mother and son.

XXXX

Regina awoke the next morning and sleepily grinned in contentment, rolling over to reach for the warm body at her back to find…Henry?

"Hi Momma," yawned the only other occupant of the bed. _Oh, no. Where is…_

"Hey," Emma smiled, striding back into the room, redressed in last night's clothes. "I came in to say bye. Some of us have to work this morning," she winked, "and my chief–wear is back at my place. Gotta head back early and grab a shower." She knelt down at Regina's side of the bed and leaned in for a quick kiss. "I'm sorry."

"No, of course."

"Plus, that one tried to steal my spot," she teased.

"'s my spot!" the boy giggled.

"Oh, really?"

Henry tried to adopt his most serious face, which was laugh-inducing. "Can we share?" he asked, brightening with the idea. The question melted both women's hearts.

"Aww, bud. Yeah, we can. Thank you."

"Did he kick you?" Regina whispered.

"Not too bad. I kinda liked it." She reached up and cupped Regina's face. "Talk to you tonight?"

"I don't want to sound really needy, but would you like to come over for dinner? I have turkey." Regina giggled at her lame justification. I am needy. Now that she had a couple of days with Emma in her house, she never wanted it to end.

"I would like that very much." Emma stood, leaning in for one final kiss. "I'll be over around 5, OK?"

"Be safe," Regina breathed.

"You come back?" Henry nearly shouted as the blonde walked out the door. She stopped and turned.

"I'll come back."

XXXX

The blonde kept her promise, knocking at her favorite front door right on time, unmolested by the general public, now one day in a row. Her swollen eye was still bulging a bit, darkening sickly, a dramatic contrast against her light hair and fair skin.

"Jeezum Crow!" Martha howled when Emma walked into the station that morning. "That's a helluva shiner." Bell spent the morning apologizing profusely while Nolan teased his younger colleague mercilessly. By lunchtime, Emma had to tell both of them to knock it off; they were as bad as brother and sister.

"You two, enough! Bell, I will be fine. Nolan," she smiled. "you're the one who couldn't hold him." The petite blonde tittered. Emma met her with a wink. "You owe me one, got it?"

The door swung open, a smiling brunette on the other end. Both women stepped forward and into each other's hungry embrace, Emma closing the door shut behind her with her foot, hands otherwise occupied. She was just about to snake out her tongue when the house phone rang. Grumbling, Regina reluctantly pulled away, picked up the handset and was greeted brusquely: "I'll be at your place in 15 minutes with Ruby, Hunter and dinner. Plan accordingly."

"That sounds like a threat."

"It's a lovely gesture. Fifteen."

Regina smiled. The woman was a lunatic, which only made her love her more.

"What was that?" Emma scooped Regina back into her arms.

"Kathryn. She informed me she is showing up with Ruby, Hunter and dinner in 15 minutes."

"Is this a common occurrence?"

"Bringing an entourage and food? No. Popping in? Yes. And she usually eats my food," Regina noted wryly.

"Those two together? I haven't known them as long as you, but that can't be good. Ruby knows how I feel about you, I wonder if—"

Regina's eyes widened. "Kathryn knows how I feel about you."

"Oh, boy."

Regina leaned into her girlfriend and claimed her lips in a kiss. "At least we get fed."

"When they get here, wanna just go for it, like, open the door while we're making out?" Emma's torso warmed dangerously as she imagined pushing Regina up against the wall and getting her hands on that delicious chest again.

"They'd probably take pictures."

The couple opted to let their friends stew, which they did, playing it cool and nonchalant until the boys were fed, off and playing. The four soon found themselves sitting around the kitchen table in an awkward silence.

"So, anything you want to tell us?" Kathryn asked coyly, nibbling on her crust.

Regina and Emma looked at each other, confused. "Thanks for the pizza?" Emma offered. Regina pulled a mushroom off Emma's slice and added it to her plate.

"Anything about yourselves?" Ruby added.

Regina smirked. "That I like pizza?" She grabbed the pilfered mushroom and deposited it on her slice, about to dig in.

"How about you tell us why your hand is resting on Emma's thigh?" Kathryn smirked.

Took them long enough. "Oh," she smiled absentmindedly. "Have you met my girlfriend, Emma?"

"Fuckin-A finally!" Ruby hollered over Kathryn's simultaneous, "Praise, Jesus!"

The women laughed in relief, the false tension in the room dissipated. Emma grabbed Regina's hand on her thigh and brought it to her lips to kiss the knuckles.

"Of course you're chivalrous. Of course." Kathryn sipped her gin and tonic. "This town has fuck-all for eligible men, I'm switching teams."

"I don't know a woman who could handle you, dear," Regina snorted.

 _I do_ , Emma thought. _I wonder if she's serious._ Regina caught Emma's pensive stare into the wall. "What?"

"Nothing, anyway. Yes, I am a catch." Emma held her arms out to the side, palms up, in false modesty.

"I'll say." Regina blushed at the thought of just how catchable Emma was.

"Oooh, look at that! This is going to be great," Ruby crowed. "We're going to have unlimited 'Let's make Regina blush' opportunities. Yeah! Thanks, Emma."

"Gin and tonic and pizza. Aren't you classy?" Regina needled Kathryn, trying to change the subject.

"Shut up. So, what the hell happened to your face? Acrobatic sex?" Kathryn asked Emma innocently. Regina's blush returned immedoately. "Oh, my God, I am loving you two already."

"Nah, domestic yesterday. Meth head freaked out he was disinvited to family dinner."

Ruby leaned in, concerned. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, swelling's down. Now it just looks horrible. No big."

Ruby turned to Regina. "Are you prepared to date a cop? You worry… a lot." Regina paled a bit; she hadn't yet considered that part of the relationship. _What if something serious happened to Emma?_

"Hey." Emma swung her arm around Regina's shoulders, she could easily decipher her girlfriend's reaction. "This is Storybrooke. I think I'm pretty safe, OK?" She kissed Regina's temple, secretly sticking her tongue out unseen to tickle the patch of skin she just bussed. "Don't worry."

Kathryn and Ruby awwwed in unison, while Regina nodded. "You know who needs to worry?" Emma joked, eyes narrowing. "These two."

The cohorts held up their hands palms out. "Hey, we didn't do anything, other than make you two come to your senses," Kathryn noted.

"Can we have some more juice boxes?" Henry asked, running into the kitchen.

"So, Hen, what's shakin'?" He eyed his "aunt" like she had two heads. "What's new?"

Comprehension sparked in big brown eyes. _Oh_. "Cheef got a boo boo. It's yucky."

"I saw," she nodded sympathetically, raising the highball glass for another sip.

"And she stole my place in Momma's bed this morning!" Henry giggled, somehow instinctively knowing he was sharing privileged information.

Unfortunately, Kathryn was mid-sip when the boy announced the news, which caused her to snort stinging gin and tonic up – but not out – her nose. Emma winced in solidarity, between the carbonation and the gin, that must have hurt like a bitch. Regina turned red, Ruby hooted and Emma leaned over to rap the principal on the back a few times to help her out. The woman coughed for half a minute, trying to get her breathing under control. Unfazed, mission apparently accomplished, Henry left the room with his juice boxes and went to find his friend.

"Serves you right!" Regina scolded. "Trying to weasel information out of a boy."

The women visited until it got close to little boys' bedtimes. They all bused glasses, plates and dishes, then exited the kitchen, Kathryn grabbing Emma and keeping her behind.

"Hurt her and I'll kill you," she stated, only half-joking.

Emma met her stare with serious, sincere eyes, "If I do, I'll deserve it. But I won't." Patting her on the shoulder, Kathryn nodded. "Thanks for taking care of her before I got here," Emma added, her throat suddenly tight with emotion.

Kathryn looked at those green eyes, instantly shiny. _Christ, this is the real deal. Thank God._ Her voice was soft and sincere in reply. "No problem."

The women said their goodbyes, the solid thud of the front door shutting behind them as Hunter ran ahead. The friends sighed contently as they walked to the car: Mission accomplished.

"If they don't book a hall within a year," Kathryn noted playfully, "I'll enter amateur night at The Rusty Scupper."

"Well, shit. Now I don't know who to root for."

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sincere thanks for all your kind comments. I wish I could thank you individually but I don't believe there's a messaging system here. If there is, let me know! But, regardless, thank you.


	11. Chapter 11

"Help!" Emma cried desperately, back to the ground, at the mercy of her attacker. "Help! Officer in need of assistance!"

She gently swatted away tiny tickling fingers, letting a few slip in here and there to do their worst, while her assailant giggled merrily straddling her stomach.

"I got you!" Henry shrieked, excitement threatening to overwhelm his face, scrunched up in unabashed joy.

"Oh yeah? Are you getting cocky?"

While the boy paused trying to determine her meaning, Emma used the distraction to cup the back of his head and flip them, the child now on his back, her hand ensuring the move didn't bounce his head off the hardwood floor of the living room.

"Ahhhh! Momma! Haaaaaalp!"

Regina was in her study, trying to finish an e-mail but thoroughly failing because she couldn't resist listening to the joyous racket taking place across the hall. Admitting defeat, she stood with a smile and strode in to assess the situation.

Emma sat back on her knees hovering over Henry's legs, effectively pinning him to the ground. Every few seconds she'd wind a finger through the air and land it somewhere on his torso for a quick tickle. He'd screech in delight and try to swat her away, only her have her fingers land somewhere else.

"Oh, sure, _now_ you come in? When he calls? What about me?" Emma teased with a smile, keeping her eyes trained on the boy. She didn't have to look to know Regina entered the room, she could smell her perfume, the scent making her heart skip a beat.

She finally looked up, trying to keep a straight face. "I have the suspect subdued, ma'am. What should I do with him?"

"Stop tickling him," she chided gently. "He just ate. I don't want him getting sick on my floor."

"Really? _He_ was torturing _me_ with _his_ tickle claws, and _I_ just ate, and yet you had no concerns about me? About my well being?" Emma tried to adopt her best wounded look. "Oh, I get it." She stood, reaching down to help Henry up, then hung her head low, slowly walking out of the room. "It's OK, I understand."

She was nearly in the foyer when she felt a finger hook into the belt loop of her jeans and tug her backwards. She turned and immediately felt two arms attached around her neck. Regina leaned in and nuzzled Emma's nose with her own.

"I do care about your well being," she purred. "Quite a bit, actually."

"That doesn't sound like a lot." Emma's lips quivered trying to hold the pout when all she felt like doing was smiling so wide her cheeks would ache.

"Quite a lot."

"Eh."

"More than I can say?"

Sulk evaporated, Emma's lips stretched wide as she leaned in to kiss her girlfriend. "There you go."

Lips slipped and slid slowly until Regina pulled out of the kiss, reluctantly releasing Emma's bottom lip. "He needs a bath and it's getting late, would you like to help?"

Tilting her head, Emma touched her forehead to Regina's. "I can do better than that, I'll do the honors. Did you finish your work?"

The brunette smirked. "No. I couldn't concentrate, there was some sort of wrestling match going on in my living room."

"He started it. I was the victim. Why do people always blame the cops?"

"Hen- _ray_!" Emma sang, walking into the foyer, her arm slung lazily around Regina's shoulders. The women were so preoccupied with each other, they didn't even notice the child leave the room. The boy in question appeared in the hallway.

"What?"

"Bath. And I will give you a 3-second head start because I am generous and humble. 1…2…"

Henry yelped and took off up the stairs.

"You cheater!" Emma barreled up hot on his heels, taking two steps at a time. She was nearly at the first landing when she ran back down, quickly pecking Regina on the lips. She charged back up growling, "You're in for it now, kid!"

Regina chuckled to herself as she heard Henry shriek in response somewhere upstairs, the surprisingly loud thud of his feet traveling overhead sounding like he'd come through the ceiling any second. She headed for her study once more wondering if all this sudden joy in her life was some sort of cosmic reparation for her previous loss and pain.

She lasted all of 10 minutes before she shut down her laptop. It was useless, when Regina was home these days, she only wanted to be with two people. Where they were, she wanted to be; that e-mail never stood a chance. Regina shut off her office lights and headed up the stairs, happy that she could spend the rest of the night with her family, but sad Emma would leave before midnight.

Since getting together three weeks earlier, the women had adopted a regular, easy schedule. Emma was over for dinner Tuesdays and Thursdays – the two evenings Regina didn't have after-hours meetings with the City Council, Planning Board or any other town business. Friday through Sunday evening, she moved into Mifflin Street, much to the delight of its residents. Mother and son hated to see Emma leave, so much so that when she did, it had to be after Henry had gone to bed. The first time she tried to leave with Henry awake was a disaster. Regina would not soon forget her son's tears that Sunday night when the Mills family finally allowed Emma to leave their home after their long Thanksgiving weekend.

_"Why you go?" Henry asked weakly, realization softening his eyes at the corners. His lips stared to quiver as Emma slung her duffle over her shoulder. He grabbed her hand as if he could tether her to the spot._

_"I have to work tomorrow, bud," she countered softly. "It's dark out. You have to go to bed and get a good night's sleep and so do I." Emma's heart pinched at the statement, she knew she wouldn't get a better night's sleep outside the arms of Regina Mills._

_"But I here. And Momma. You stay!" Henry stomped his foot to punctuate his demand. If a pout wouldn't work, maybe brute force would. "You stay Cheef!"_

_Regina remained in the background, watching her two loves work it out. Emma took a knee in front of the boy, surrendering her bag to the floor. "I'm coming back, Hen, in two sleeps."_

_"No."_

_Well this isn't working. Emma switched course. "I need you to do me a favor." The child leaned in, mildly interested. "I have to go home and stay at my apartment, do you think…" She looked to her left and her right as if to secure their secret. Emma leaned in and whispered in his ear. "You're my deputy, do you think you could take care of Momma for me when I'm not here? I'll be here a lot, but I can't be here all the time." She smirked, adding quietly, "Not yet."_

_The child's eyes narrowed, trying to determine if he was being tricked. Suspicion was easily overruled by his devotion to the woman. "OK," he agreed, sadly._

_"What?"_

_"Tuck me in?" Emma heard Regina try to stifle a snicker in the background. The boy wasn't even in his pajamas yet, this request would mean at least another hour at the house. She didn't mind, at all, other than the fact she just got played by a 3-year-old._

_"You win, man. But let's start bedtime now, OK?"_

_Henry beamed and bounced up the stairs, leaving Regina to approach Emma with a lingering kiss on the lips, followed by a wry grin. "Remind me not to let you handle negotiations with the union next time the officers' contract is up, OK?"_

Regina reached the upstairs hall with a smile, listening to Henry and Emma's easy banter. It hadn't even been a month, but it was the best, brightest, most-hopeful time Regina could remember since Daniel died.

Curious, she stood outside the doorway and listened in, fascinated by the pair. She could see the vanity mirror from the hallway, the angle displaying Henry in the bubble-filled tub and Emma's sock-clad feet and jean-covered shins perpendicular. _She must be sitting up against the vanity._

"So how was school today? What was the best part?"

"Snack."

"Oooh! What'd you get?"

"Yellow cookies. Dey were small and crunchy."

A snack aficionado, Emma tried to follow the clues. "Nilla Wafers? What color was the box?"

For a person who never had a child, nephew or niece, Emma's facility for children was impressive, Regina mused. Her relationship with Henry was so natural, so easy, it felt as if she had been a part of his life for three years not three weeks. Regina was grateful for the woman's presence in Henry's life, as well as her own, stunned at how quickly the child bonded to the blonde. She was also slightly concerned. Was she letting him get too attached too quickly? Was it already too late?

"You _did_ have Nilla Wafers. Yum!" Regina overheard, tuning back in. "I'll ask Momma if we can get some. Come here, we need to wash that hair."

Unable to resist the pull of her loves any longer, Regina walked in and witnessed an only slightly soaked Emma rinsing the shampoo out of Henry's hair.

"Hey," she smiled, eyes still focused on keeping suds out of the boy's eyes. "We gotta get handsome here some Nilla Wafers. He's acquired a taste."

"I supposed we could do that."

Emma and Henry hoorayed in unison, prompting Regina to chuckle. The pair were so similar she had already come to wonder if Emma had given birth to him. The brunette draped him in a hooded towel and oversaw teeth brushing, Emma already on her way to his room to grab new underwear and pajamas. Soon the boy was dressed and tucked into Emma's chest on Regina's bed, the unstated-but-understood best upstairs location for group book reading.

"All About Police Cars," Emma began, suppressing a groan. "I hope Santa brings you a new book for Christmas, man…One day, Officer Dan…"

Emma didn't need the book, she could recite it by heart by now. She smiled, feeling a small hand near her head, wondering if playing with her hair had joined finger-sucking as Henry's chosen self-soothing techniques. She looked down to find two fingers disappeared into his small mouth, lids starting to flutter. With one arm around Henry and another holding the book, she wished she had a third to wind around the comforting weight pressed deliciously into her left side. The brunette had joined them on the bed, curled into Emma's athletic frame.

"This book is like Tylenol PM," Emma whispered. "He's out. And it's not even a long one…thank God."

"Maybe it's the reader?" came a low, calming voice.

"Well, definitely. The reader is certainly talented."

Regina threaded an arm around Emma's waist and squeezed, then pulled away. "I'll say. Let me go take care of him and I'll be right back." She scooped up the boy and tucked him in his own room, returning quickly.

"That was fast," Emma laughed. "Did you even put him under the covers or did you just throw him on the bed?"

Regina resumed her spot, snuggled around her girlfriend. "I am an expert. I don't need a lot of time to get him into bed, especially when I wanted to join _you_ in _my_ bed." The brunette hummed as she curled into her girlfriend, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the underside of Emma's chin.

The blonde groaned, it was getting so hard to fight the desire to rip Regina's clothes off and make her forget her own name. In the short time they'd been together, Regina had made impressive progress demonstrating her affections. There were passionate makeout sessions, which evolved into lusty, though fully clothed, fondling and groping. And she could never forget that night in the back seat of the Mustang…

_"I bet you were a goodie two shoes," Emma teased on the way home from dinner._

_"I was a smart, responsible young woman."_

_Emma coughed into her fist: "Nerd."_

_"Excuse me?"_

_Emma pulled up to the curb in front of Regina's house, the lights low, save for the flickering of a TV in the darkened living room. Wonder if the sitter's awake? Becky had a habit of conking out past 10 p.m._

_"Nothing. We're here."_

_"No, let's continue this."_

_Emma smiled and leaned across the center console. "I'm just saying I bet you were a good girl who never broke the rules. Did you ever smoke?"_

_"No."_

_"Well, that's good. It's an expensive, deadly habit. How about drinking?"_

_"My parents used to give me a glass of wine with Sunday dinner."_

_"How cool, drinking with your parents." Emma pretended to yawn._

_Regina smacked her on the arm playfully. "I had boyfriends."_

_"Oooh, now we're talkin'." Emma leaned over farther and began to lick any part of exposed neck not burdened by an overcoat. "Did you let them do this?" Lips began to suck gently on corded muscle._

_"Yes."_

_"Mmmm, how 'bout this?" Emma gently fondled a breast, albeit one hidden under two layers._

_"One or two."_

_"Breasts or boys?" Emma laughed at her own joke through fervent kisses. "Ever make out with a boy in the back set of his car?" Delicious sounds of lips and suction filled the air, met by a low, yearning sigh._

_"No."_

_Regina pulled away suddenly and opened her door, a rapid blast of cold air invading the car. She tilted the bucket seat forward and hopped in the back as the door shut, a challenge in her eyes, her coat soon landing in the front seat._

_A feral smile broke across Emma's face as she swiftly followed suit. "So," she taunted. "Come here often?"_

_Regina's eyes were wild with lust as she dove for her girlfriend, lowering her to leather seats, which began squeaking under maneuvering body parts. Neither woman was very tall, but the sloping, cramped back was still far too small for serious horizontal activity. Emma had to pull her knees up to fit on the seat, Regina straddling her with one knee on one side of the blonde's hips, her right foot on the floor._

_Determined, the women kissed passionately, frantically, lips nipping, biting, tugging and sucking any skin they could find. Four hands roamed, massaging, rubbing and teasing breasts and stroking abs, clothes staying put, fingers still never venturing too far south. Emma looked up and saw the back windows began to fog. Hell, yeah. She felt Regina's hips start to undulate on top of her, exquisite rubbing dampened by the slight rise between the back seats that pressed awkwardly against her lower back._

_"Uh, honey, as much as I hate to say this, laying down is not super comfortable."_

_Regina groaned in frustration, sucking on Emma's earlobe. "Why didn't you buy an SUV?"_

_"If you promise to repeat this, I will buy an RV, whatever you want," she gasped. Emma pushed up off her elbows and sat up in her seat, patting her lap with a leer._

_Catching the drift, the brunette smirked. Hiking up her too-tight skirt, she straddled Emma's thighs and dove in to claim kiss-swollen lips once more. Despite near-freezing temperatures outside, it was Texas in July inside the Mustang, sweat, heat and heavy breathing now fully fogging all windows in the rear. Emma released a few buttons of Regina's blouse, moving a warm hand in to cup a breast, teasing a hidden nipple. Lips followed her hand, sucking on a swell of flesh not covered by lace._

_The stimulation was driving Regina insane, the position forcing her cheek to lean on top of the crown of Emma's head. She shifted her hips with a wanton moan, now straddling one firm thigh, a thin layer of hosiery the only barrier between Emma's leg and Regina's sex. She began to grind, chasing friction._

_"Oh God. Mmmmmm…Oh God…" she whimpered. Her hips pistoned faster. Emma pulled back from a firm breast, fully realizing what was going on._

_"Do you..." she was having a hard time forming words. The sensation of Regina bucking on her leg, the scent of sex, perfume and sweat overwhelming the cramped space and her ability to speak. "Do you want to stop?"_

_The question was almost silly as Emma had little to do with the situation at hand, save for being the person on which the brunette was rutting frantically. Regardless, she wanted to ensure Regina had her bearings and was thinking clearly before she continued._

_"No…no, I…it feels so good."_

_Emma looked up and smiled at Regina's flushed face, her mouth open in a small O as she panted. Eyes nearly closed in concentration, she resumed wildly chasing release. The blonde kept her hands away from the action, one threaded in thick black hair, the other wound around Regina's back, helping her balance. When it was finally time for her to give this gorgeous creature an orgasm, she wanted it to be in a bed with plenty of space, time and solitude. For now, she was content to kiss her girlfriend senseless and hold on for the ride. It was obvious Regina needed this, she needed it so bad._

_Close to climax, Regina pulled away from Emma's lips and dropped her forehead to the blonde's shoulder. "Come on baby, let go," Emma urged. Regina grunted in response, lost in sensation, then cried out with tight wail, torso shuddering, hips jerking out of time. Emma tightened her embrace, kissed her neck and stroked her hair as Regina came down from her high._

_The back seat remained hot and humid, the only sound Regina's deep breaths. Once steady, she met Emma's eyes bashfully. "I'm sorry."_

_"What? Why?"_

_"I shouldn't have—"_

_"Did it feel good?"_

_The brunette nodded with a shy grin._

_"Then you absolutely should have. That was crazy hot and it makes me so happy to help you feel good."_

_"But I—"_

_"Regina." Emma breathed her name like a benediction and cradled her face in her hands. The brunette nodded in understanding._

_"How are you? Did you…" she trailed off, embarrassed._

_"No, you would have noticed." Emma couldn't control a giggle. "Believe me."_

_"Do you want to…"_

_"Yeah." Another giggle. "But it's OK, I'll take care of it later."_

_Emma had been "taking care of it later" for nearly a month. Initially she had a chivalrous goal of not enjoying an orgasm until she could share it with Regina, but she gave up a few days in. The couple's hot-and-heavy makeout sessions were enough to get Emma stimulated beyond belief, but not enough to give her any relief. She'd leave Mifflin Street and head directly to her couch to take the edge off. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do for now._

_"You mean…masturbate?"_

_The word sounded so foreign, so dirty, in Regina's mouth Emma nearly laughed. "Um, yeah. I'd never get any sleep otherwise and I'd be cranky as hell."_

_Emma had hoped they were nearly to the point at which Regina would beg Emma to make love to her. This was the furthest they'd ever gone; full-on, totally naked, mind-blowing sex couldn't be too far away. Emma was more than ready to use her whole body to show Regina how much she loved her._

_"So you're going to go home and masturbate?"_

_Again Emma had to bite back a chuckle. How was this a difficult concept? Had this woman never enjoyed a little self-love before?_

_"Eventually, yes." All this talk about getting off with Regina straddling her now-damp pant leg, her aching core encased in sticky underwear just out of reach was going to make this line of question moot very quickly._

_Regina paused. "What if I want to help you?" A hint of insecurity threaded through the question._

_Emma swallowed thickly. "Then I'd say I'm the luckiest women in Maine."_

_"What do I do?"_

_Well, that was a loaded question. Mindful of her girlfriend's inexperience and her insistence Regina set the pace, Emma kept it easy. "Switch positions with me."_

_Regina rolled off Emma's lap and in a game of back seat Twister assumed her position, Emma now straddling Regina's hose-clad thigh, skirt rucked up nearly to her waist._ Unnnnn, so close, _Emma moaned to herself._

_She followed Regina's lead, straddling her thigh. "Do you feel that?" Emma knew the fabric covering her groin was wet. Regina gasped at the sticky, warm heat kissing her thigh. "That's what you do to me." A tiny shudder raced through Regina's torso._

_Rolling her hips, Emma shifted until she found the perfect spot, pinning the seam of her pants just where she wanted for maximum stimulation. She leaned forward, slinging her arms around Regina's neck for balance. "So good," Emma groaned, a wave of pleasure building on the horizon._

_Regina placed one hand around Emma's waist, another low on her back. She was shocked when her core began to pulse once more in empathetic arousal. She instantly understood what Emma had just done, turned on with no method of relief in sight, content to put her lover's need before her own._

_"You make me feel so good, Regina," Emma gasped, picking up speed. It wouldn't take long now._

_"I…" Regina started then stopped. Sex talk had never been her strong suit, but she felt compelled to speak. "Show me," she pleaded, so low it was nearly a whisper, shocked at the desperate timber of her voice. "Show me."_

_Regina tentatively dipped her hand lower, moving from the small of Emma's back down to her ass and, caught in the moment, grabbed a handful and squeezed._

_Emma gasped, thrilled with her girlfriend's boldness. "Yes. Oh God! Unnnnh!" The unexpected move was enough to push her over the edge in a shuddering lurch, a long, hot groan expelled on Regina's neck._

_A mirror image to earlier, the women held each other closely as their breathing returned to normal. Emma pulled back and looked deep in Regina's eyes._

I love you, _unspoken by both parties, hung in the air fully realized, felt and believed. Even though neither had formally verbalized it, they both knew it to be true. It was plain as day as they gazed at each other with complete devotion and wonder, still panting from the experience._

"What are you smiling about?" Regina had moved off Emma's neck and caught her girlfriend in a beatific smile.

"The back seat of my car."

"Mmmmm." She lay her head on Emma's shoulder as they snuggled on her bed. "That was something."

"I can't believe we didn't check your makeup before we went in."

"We? How was I supposed to see myself? I can't believe you didn't notice how disheveled I looked!"

Emma giggled at the memory: walking into the foyer and spying the woman under decent light. "You looked like The Joker. I can't believe Becky still answers your phone calls."

"I can. Do you think she wants to get pulled over every time she drives through town or have a tax lien put on her parents' house?"

Emma grinned. "Nice. I thought we agreed not to let our personal and professional lives conflict." She dove back in to assault her girlfriend's neck and was enjoying great success when a fierce uproar erupted from her pants pocket:

_Fuck tha police_   
_Comin' straight from the underground_

"Oh God!" Emma leapt up in a panic, grabbing her phone and pressing the end call button, sending it straight to voice mail. She quickly switched it to vibrate, her heart still hammering in her chest.

"What on earth was that?" Regina laughed.

Figuring it was easier to show her, Emma produced the call in question, which featured Robert's contact photo. "My best friend, Robert. He's just like me, except gigantic, black and a dude. You two need to meet."

Regina closely examined the picture of a "shocked" Robert being kissed on the cheek by a smirking Emma.

"I've spent the past, what, three months whining to him about how much I like you. It was pathetic."

"It sounds it." Regina grinned. "I have an idea." She took Emma's phone hand and stretched out the arm, selfie-style. Leaning in, she recreated Robert's contact photo, one-upping it a bit, draping her arms around Emma's neck and shooting a possessive/sultry stare at the lens as she kissed the grinning blonde on the cheek.

Regina appraised the final product with a victorious smirk. "Send him _that_ ," she husked.

"He's gonna die, I love it."

"Is Robert from the city?"

Emma laughed. "If you ask him, he'll claim the mean streets. But don't let him fool you, he grew up in Concord. His Dad has a dental practice on Beacon Hill, does most of the movers and shakers in the State House and half of the Celtics."

Emma paused to draw Regina in her arms once again and cuddle on the bed, running her hands through silky black locks. _How is it this smooth all the time?_

"His Dad could have gotten him hooked up with a prime gig, some high-money, lame assignment like standing outside the locker room at The Garden or 'guarding' the caf at the State House. But he didn't want it. He really wanted to be a cop. I respect the hell out of him for that. His father could have pulled every string and Robert said no. He's a great cop."

"He sounds like an honorable man."

Emma felt her phone buzz, hitting the message symbol, she brought up her friend's reply:

**thud**

"He's also a giant goofball." She held up his reply for Regina to see.

"I'd like to meet him," she smiled sincerely. If this man was as important to Emma as he appeared, she was curious beyond all belief.

"He feels the same way. Against my better judgment, we need to make it happen."

The following night, N.W.A. furiously made their presence known once again, this time in Emma's apartment. _I have to change that ringtone._

"What's goin' down on the the mean streets of Storybrooke?"

"Well, today I gave an interview to the paper about the importance of locking cars and homes."

Robert roared, this town was out of a fairy tale. "That's some avant-garde policing there, Swan. You sure the Feds don't want you? You could make a big difference. You're gonna get a medal or something."

"That actually is progressive here, hardly anyone locks anything, except for stores."

"Then it's a nice place to be."

"Indeed."

"So what's up with the kiddie safety lecture?"

"Eh, having a rash of break-ins. I can't believe I have to even state 'Lock your shit.'"

The deep voice chuckled over the line. "I certainly hope that wasn't the headline: 'Chief to residents: Lock your shit.' So…how's Mrs. Mightyfine? That was some picture. How'd you con her into kissing your mug?"

"It was her idea. You guys need to meet, although I'm feeling I'll regret it."

"I will do my best to refrain from sharing your sordid tales, although the time where you found that pair of panties tucked into your flak jacket on that bust—"

" _No!_ See, that is what I worry about."

"Calm your tits. Why don't you bring her and Mightymidget down to the big, bad city after the holiday? Get a nice hotel room, Lord knows you have the money, your wallet's rusty."

"Hey, I've picked up plenty of tabs in my time."

"Ain't talkin' about that. I mean, you rarely spend it on something fun for yourself, aside from that ugly-ass car. You never go on vacation or do squat. Bring the family down, take him to the Children's Museum, Museum of Science, aquarium, all that kiddie shit."

"Pretty sure it's not marketed as 'kiddie shit,' but you've got a point. Let me check with Regina."

The imitation of a whip crack sounded across the line. "Surprise her, you dumbass. It's Christmas time. Plan a mystery trip and whisk her away. Shit, I gotta do everything for you?"

Emma couldn't admit he was right, she'd never hear the end of it. But it was a good idea.

XXXX

Since becoming a couple Thanksgiving weekend, Emma and Regina had a long talk on the subject of personal-professional conflict. They outlined any potential areas they thought could potentially be an issue and worked through ways to disarm any arguments. After they ran through it, it turned out there were very few, given Emma didn't report to her girlfriend. There were the basics: personal calls on personal phones, work calls on work phones, the same went for texting or e-mail.

The one issue they did agree needed an alteration was their weekly Tuesday meetings. Regina would never forget that first Tuesday when she asked Laura to come in and take minutes. All three women sat at the conference table, the elder Laura instantly realizing something significant had changed between the women. The meetings over the past month were gallows-like, the subdued Chief, the on-edge Mayor. The officer would disappear behind the door and return less than 15 minutes later, looking even more glum than she had when she arrived. Now, the Chief swept in upbeat, the door stayed open, the Mayor looked radiant and Laura was invited to pull up a chair and bring a pen.

The meetings had been friendly, business-like, quick – and boring, Laura observed. The best part was watching the two women "Madam Mayor" this and "Chief Swan" that, all while trying to suppress the light in their eyes and the obvious joy in each other's presence.

 _I may be old_ , she thought, _but I'm not dead._ The women were good, she gave them credit. They were as professional as they could be, but no one with a heart could tamp down whatever they were feeling. Curious, she began fishing for info with her sources around town, which is exactly why Regina had already informed the City Council the night before.

At the end of the previous night's meeting, she requested the Council go into Executive Session to discuss a personnel matter, thereby making the meeting private and not open to the public. Reporter and handful of spectators removed to the hallway, Regina's throat felt tight as she stood in front of her five bosses and announced, "I've entered into a relationship with Chief Swan."

She delivered the prepared remarks she had written the night before, cross-legged on her bed, in between kisses from Emma.

_"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you? I will. I don't like you doing this alone." Emma's eyes were so soft and sincere, Regina's heart squeezed with affection._

_She took the blonde's hand and let herself be pulled into a hug. "I should go, at least at first. They've known me for years, I think it would be better coming from me."_

The Mayor's statement and plan of action were short and sweet. She finished quickly and sat, silence dangling as she nervously waited for a reaction.

"Well," began veteran Council chair and pharmacy owner John Lavoie, "thank you for your transparency. It musn'tve been easy on such a personal matter."

Viewing Regina as the consummate professional who went out of her way to avoid any impropriety, Lavoie automatically sensed that if the relationship between the employees had progressed to a point at which the Mayor felt the need to address the Council, it had to be serious. "I have full faith in your ability to perform your duties without any conflict of interest with the, um, Police Department. Anyone else?"

Lavoie looked left and right at his brethren, who sat on a raised oak dais in Council chambers. The two women and two men all shook their heads in the negative. "I think you said it all, John," added Councilwoman Meg Ames. "I have no concerns either."

"The Chief did volunteer to address you as well," Regina added. "If you would like her at the next meeting, just let her know."

"Is she watching Henry?" Ames asked with a grin, forgetting she was in a Council meeting and not shooting the bull over coffee.

Blushing slightly, Regina smirked. "No, I believe she is at her home."

Councilman Dan Tucker caught the brunette's eye. "Regina, this town is lucky to have you and Chief Swan, I've got no worries." He paused, adding, "I'm happy for you." That much was true, Tucker wanted nothing but happiness for the woman but was gutted by the news. The accountant had been pining for the Mayor for years, but felt his position on the Council created a conflict of interest. He hoped he masked his disappointment adequately.

Unaware, Regina smiled. "Thank you, Dan."

"What do we do if residents ask? If Sidney asks?" All heads turned toward newly elected Sue Abramson. "Oh, and congratulations."

"Tell them the truth," Regina instructed smoothly. "That there is no conflict of interest and the Mayor's office and Police Department are transparent. Any questions they have, any records they want they will get. I doubt Sidney would print anything, unless he starts a gossip column."

"Regina's right," Lavoie confirmed. "It may be the talk of Granny's for a bit, but it'll get old quick. Plus…" he trailed off chuckling, "I can't imagine anyone with the stones to question you and Swan about your personal lives. I'm happy for you two and your boy. Now, can we reconvene into public so we can end this and go home? The Bruins are in L.A. and I want to catch at least one period."

At preschool pickup three weeks later, Ruby tugged Regina off to one side before the kids were released. "Hey, word's getting out about you guys. FYI."

"I honestly can't believe it took this long. I told the Council in November; they had no problem. I've seen some lingering eyes at Town Hall, but I'm sure it's old news there. Kathryn told me it was going around school last week."

"Those teachers are wicked gossips."

"No kidding." Regina wondered about one in particular. The muffled sound of tiny feet approaching and excited chatter picked up in volume as the children progressed down the hallway in a more-or-less orderly line.

"You guys going to the festival Saturday? Graham's off hunting. I was going to take Hunter. Maybe you could join us? Look less couple-y?"

"Or like we're in some sort of kinky swinger's group," Regina tittered. "No, that sounds like fun. Let me just check with Emma, make sure she didn't have plans."

"Yes, check with the wife," Ruby smirked.

Regina smacked her playfully. "You're as bad as Kathryn, I swear."

XXXX

Friday afternoon Regina walked into the Jittery Lobster, the weekend on her mind. She had just wrapped a meeting nearby and was suddenly craving a latte, a quick trip back to her office, a little paperwork and then off to pick up Henry at his sitter's. A certain blonde weekend resident would arrive soon after.

Granny's didn't serve lattes, hence the trip. Being Mayor, she tried to fairly patronize both establishments, the latter of which was allowed to exist after reaching a détente with the formidable Eugenia Lucas by promising to only sell coffee and baked goods – no meals. The newer establishment made up by the difference by staying open until 11 p.m. – or later on weekends - Granny's closing at 7.

Mind focused on her beverage and the impending weekend, she nearly plowed straight into her former doctor, Archie Hopper, as she headed for the counter.

"Regina, hi!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I…"

"No worries." He held out an arm, gesturing for her to get in line and order, following right behind. "What's new?"

She smiled. "Everything."

"Well I don't know what that entails, but it certainly sounds good. Join me for a bit?"

Mentally flipping the calendar in her head, she nodded. She had time, that paperwork could wait and she hadn't seen Archie in ages. "Sure."

Latte soon in hand, she slid into a corner booth with the gentle, curly-haired man. "So what's up?"

Regina had seen the doctor professionally for about 18 months following Daniel's death. The murder of her husband, the birth of her son and then the accidental death of her parents sent her to Hopper's twice weekly for a year and then weekly for another six months. She distinctly remembered his kindness and how, when she was forced to bring an infant Henry due to lack of a sitter, Archie would walk his office holding the child, his soothing presence lulling the boy to sleep as Regina cried into tissues trying to rebuild her shattered life.

A tiny grin pulled her lips up at the corners. "I'm in a relationship."

"A good one, apparently."

"With a woman."

"A good _woman_ , apparently."

"A very good woman, Chief Swan."

The psychologist assessed his former patient and warmed at the bright eyes and warm smile that accompanied the mention of her girlfriend. "You look so happy."

"I am."

"What does Henry think?"

Regina giggled at the question, it was so absurd. "He fell in love with her before I did." She stopped, shocked at what rolled off her tongue, completely natural and unbidden.

"What?"

"I…I just said I love her."

"To me," Archie chuckled. "You look a little stunned. I assume you haven't clued her in yet?"

"Not in so many words. I think it's rather obvious, though."

"Has she said it to you?"

"No, but I'll go with the same reasoning. She's very concerned I set the pace in the relationship, given I've never…you know."

Archie didn't know, he'd never assume, but he certainly did now. "Do you have any concerns about how it's proceeding?"

Stalling for time, she sipped her drink. She did have a concern but held that irrational "if I state it, it might come true" fear. Regardless, she took a deep breath and answered.

"My only concern is that this is all too-much, too-soon for Henry. He loves Emma, hell, more than me most days." She laughed at the truth of the statement. "He's never seen me in a relationship and we've never had another adult in the house this much."

"What about Kathryn?"

"I said adult."

"Touché," he tittered. "You know her ears are burning right now."

"I certainly hope so. Regardless, I've never been happier, I'm ready for this and even though I didn't expect it or plan on it, it happened, it's here, and it's the best thing in my life aside from Henry. But I'm worried he's already too attached to her; he cries whenever she leaves us. What if something goes wrong?" Regina's brows knit in concern, even stating that made her stomach twist.

Archie joined his hands and placed his chin on top of them. "Without talking to him or seeing any of you together," he prefaced, "it sounds like he's already bonded to her. Horse is out of the barn on that one." The brunette looked slightly ill and opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but was cut off. "Uh, uh, wait. Let me finish. It all boils down to intent. Most parents don't introduce a romantic partner to their children until they are very sure it's long term and they have substantial feelings for the other party. Does that sound accurate?"

She nodded over the rim of her coffee. "Am I rushing in? Am I falling too hard because I've been alone since Daniel?"

"Do you feel you are?"

The answer was firm and immediate: "No."

"Then you're overthinking, relax and enjoy." Archie looked out the window, watching the sunlight fade in the late afternoon. Most people disliked the early darkness of December, he never could quite understand why, it always seemed so comforting to him.

"I'm curious – I don't want to pry – so if you don't want to answer this I won't be offended in the least. How serious is this?"

Regina placed her drink on the table and took a deep breath. "I love her."

"Then why don't you tell her? There's no rule about how long you have to wait. Don't feel like you have to hold off on your feelings for some predetermined period, unless it's something you both agreed to. There are no rules, no right or wrong here, my friend. Do what feels right to you."

"I need to tell her," Regina breathed, looking off in the distance, like she was giving herself a pep talk. "I need to show her."

Archie raised his eyebrows. _I'm not touching that without an invitation._

"I only know what I've read in the paper about the Chief and it's all been glowing. I'd like to meet her sometime." _Before the wedding_ was left unsaid.

"I'd like that," Regina nodded, finishing her coffee. "I'd like that very much."

XXXX

Regina parted ways with Archie outside the Lobster, the neon sign of an over-caffeinated crustacean already lit in the December dark. Once in her car, she pulled out her phone and dialed.

"Yello…"

"Remember how your parents always say that I can use their camp anytime?"

"Yeah. Hold up, wait. Ruby says I'm joining you guys and her and Hunter at the festival tomorrow. Are we all going together?"

"We're going with Ruby and Hunter, so if you're coming, yes."

"I am such a loser," Kathryn grumbled. "I haven't been on a date in God knows when and when I am it's a Christmas festival group date with two lesbians, two little kids and a married woman. This is some sad-ass, 21st-century, junior-high, group date loser shit."

"Whatever, anyway, I want to use it."

"Use what?"

" _The camp_."

Kathryn dropped her feet off her desk and placed them on the floor. "Oh, right. Wow, when?"

"Are they using it tomorrow night?"

"Doubt it. The base on the mountain's still pretty low. Any snow's coming off a gun and conditions aren't great... You taking the missus and H after the festival?"

She paused before answering.

"One of them."

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story fully earns its M below. Sensitive souls, retreat. Major thanks to one of my fave SQ authors, LZClotho, for her advice and insight on Regina’s journey to this chapter.

Kathryn could only muster a confused “Oh.” _Why would they leave Hen…_ oh.

Surprised by the subdued reaction, Regina thought for sure she’d be inundated with catcalls or tawdry remarks, her friend’s forte. “And I need you to watch the other.”

The blonde recovered quickly; she couldn’t let her best friend off scot-free.

“Sounds good. I always wanted to spend more time with Emma.”

“Very funny.” _Here it comes._

“Alright, Squirt can hang with his cool godmother overnight.” Regina swore she could hear Kathryn smirking over the line. “On one condition: You use protection. I can’t have you getting knocked up by the first hot, blonde cop you meet.”

“Yes, mother.”

“I’m pretty sure you and Mother never had _that_ conversation.”

Chuckling in spite of herself, Regina agreed. “You are correct.” She hesitated, but felt the need to continue. Voice quiet and tender, she added, “I love her.”

Kathryn beamed and silently pumped her fist; she knew Regina wasn’t talking about Cora. “I know, honey. I know,” she smiled sincerely, not a trace of sarcasm in sight. “I am ridiculously happy for you.”

She knew she teased Regina mercilessly; naturally assuming the role of carefree, sarcastic friend to bring some much-needed comical counterbalance to the serious, difficult life the brunette had inherited. But underneath the snarky surface – not very far at all, Regina knew – lay a sensitive soul who loved her friend beyond all reason. They didn’t have these moments often, but when they did, they meant something to them both.

Emotional interlude enjoyed, Kathryn returned to form. “So, let’s recap: I have a group date tomorrow with my friends and their kids. Then you have a getaway with a hot woman and will no doubt break a bed at my parents’ place. I have an overnight with a 3-year-old who kicks in his sleep. How many chickens do you think I need to sacrifice to actually get a life?”

XXXX

Regina made it back to her office, just in time to shut down and lock up, when her phone rang. She smiled at the number on the screen, as well as the accompanying contact photo: a candid of Emma and Henry draped over each other on the couch, reading a book, unaware of the presence of the brunette and her camera phone.

“Hey,” she breathed excitedly.

“Hey! Want me to grab Hen? I’m getting out now and I can swing by Nicole’s in 5 minutes.”

“What about a car seat?”

“I was going to sit him on my lap and let him drive.”

Regina tried to resist what she knew was a joke but maternal instincts overruled. “Emma!”

The heavenly sound of her girlfriend’s laughter bubbled over the line. “I’ll grab one from the station, we have extras.”

“How—”

“Obviously you don’t read my reports. _I’m wounded._ We have that turn-in system, remember? When your kid outgrows it, you give it to your friendly, neighborhood police department, which gives it to DCFS for foster families, hospitals or folks who can’t afford them. We keep a few here in case tourists get in a jam, we need one for a cruiser, or whatever.”

“I _do_ read your reports,” the brunette noted, sweetly. Emma huffed, pretending to be offended. “It’s just, I can’t read them without thinking of you and getting distracted.”

“Nice try. I commend your excuse-making.”

“Can I make it up to you later?” Regina purred.

“I suppose. Want me to get him or not?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Oh, wait. Did you have any dinner plans?”

“Nothing I couldn’t scrap.”

“Good, I want to cook for you tonight. You’re not allergic to shellfish are you? Do you like shrimp?”

“No and yes.” Regina smiled to herself, more certain than ever of her Saturday night plan. “You’re quite wonderful today, what’s the occasion?”

Emma paused. _Because I love you and I want to show you how much_ was on the tip of her tongue, but a phone line was not the place for the initial admission.

“Because _you’re_ quite wonderful. See you at the house.”

XXXX

Regina walked through her front door to the homey aromas of a kitchen in use, a room from which also sprouted giggles and animated chatter. Following the noise and the smells, the brunette strode into her kitchen to find Emma and Henry cooking. Or, rather, Emma chopping garlic and Henry standing on a chair next to her, supervising.

“That smells stinky!”

“Then I’m going to get a big mouthful and kiss you on the lips.”

“No!”

“Am I interrupting anything?”

She watched Emma turn and break into a smile so warm, so wide, a shiver of excitement ran through her chest.

“Hey, just The Boss here dying to kiss me.”

“No I not!” he chirped.

Regina crossed over to Emma, who leaned in for a kiss hands splayed out to her sides. “I’m all garlicky. Hi.” Lips pressed firmly, chastely. “Welcome home.” _Home_. Regina’s heart clenched. “Where have you been?”

Humming contentedly, she moved her lips to the crown of Henry’s head, then grunted. “I got a call from a constituent who thought 4:45 p.m. on a Friday was a great time to share all her non-urgent concerns. It took me 50 minutes to end what she swore was a quick call.”

Chuckling in recognition, Emma raised an eyebrow. “Betty Wells?”

Regina nodded. “She must be making the rounds.”

“She got me yesterday - an hour and 10 minutes. Apparently I’m supposed to do something about feral cat overpopulation.” Emma looked pointedly at Henry and jerked her head toward the pantry. “Psst.”

The boy’s eyes widened. He hopped off the stool and ran into the pantry, reappearing with a bouquet of roses. “Deez are for you.”

“Oh…” Regina sighed, emotion threatening to boil over. Coming home to a family, having dinner made for her, receiving flowers for no reason. It was nearly too much. After a life of single parenthood, making every meal, supervising every action, every move, every decision, always thinking, thinking, thinking with little relief, Emma’s support and affection was nearly too good to be true. “Why?”

_Because I’m 36 years old and I’ve never been in love until now and I don’t know how to tell you._

“Because that one apparently has a romantic streak a mile wide,” she covered, tipping her chin toward Henry. “And because I can. We went grocery shopping and I thought they’d class up my dinner. By the way, if anyone didn’t know about us, they do now. Taking your son grocery shopping was a dead giveaway, I think. I got some looks.”

“What kind of looks?” Brown eyes narrowed in concern.

“Nothing mean just, like, a couple of double takes. Maybe it was because we were busy playing shoplifter and store security? I dunno.”

“Emma!”

Giggling, the blonde began deveining shrimp over the sink; she loved riling up her girlfriend. “I think the only more obvious move would be if we made out at the counter during breakfast rush at Granny’s.” She leered and leaned her head back, angling for another kiss, hands occupied. “A stunt to which I am not opposed, for the record.”

Regina bussed her girlfriend once more, then headed upstairs to change, reappearing shortly after looking far more comfortable: yoga pants, Henley and bare feet. Meandering over to the stove, she lifted a lid.

“How on earth did you have time to make sauce?”

“It’s only marinara, which I hate to tell you, is just a fancy Italian word for cut-up tomatoes and spices. If you want me to make meat sauce, that’s an all-Sunday deal.”

“I thought you didn’t know how to cook. You always mentioned your microwave.”

“I can cook, it’s more like I never had time to cook - or a reason. But I make time for special people.” _People whom I love._ “Grab the pasta in the freezer for me?”

“The freezer?” Regina opened the door and, sure enough, spied a large, clear freezer bag full of pasta.

“That I _did_ make.”

“You know how to make pasta…from scratch?” She wondered if the blonde was pulling her leg again.

Emma grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Mmmm hmmmm, Wednesday night. You had a zoning meeting or something. Throw some water on to boil, please?” Watching Regina follow her instructions, Emma continued. “From 11 to 18 I lived in a group home in Somerville.”

“Like an orphanage?”

“Everyone always thinks it’s like ‘Annie.’” Emma snorted. “No singing, no dancing, no billionaire wanting to adopt us. We were kids not good enough for foster homes but not bad enough for juvie, not yet at least.” She began sautéing garlic in a large fry pan, pungent smells starting to fill the kitchen.

“Anyway, we had a cook, this old Italian lady named Nonna. That’s what we called her, I’m not sure what her real name was.” She felt a pang of regret at the statement as she poured two glasses of Chardonnay, handing one to Regina. “If you happened to walk through the kitchen when she was cooking she’d make you help. She thought everyone should know how to make pasta from scratch.” Smiling, she imitated an Italian accent: “‘You make-a dis, you find nice boy.’ She used to wink at me when she said that, I think Nonna had good gaydar.”

The pan sizzled and hissed as shrimp, lemon juice, pepper, oregano and wine announced their arrival on the hot surface. Regina’s head swam with the rich aroma as she watched bubbles start to rise to the top of the pasta pot.

“It really is easy to make, just flour, water, eggs, salt and oil.”

“You’ll have to tell me how to do it.”

“I’ll show you, I have no ideas of measurements, Nonna just eyeballed everything, so that’s all I know. She’d say, ‘You can watch, you can cook.’ Throw the pasta in?” she asked, watching the water roll. “It’s fresh, it only needs a few minutes.”

“She sounds like a sweet person.” A large hunk of angel hair sank into the scalding water.

Jerking the pan back and forth across the burner, Emma reached back in her memory, transporting herself once more to the small kitchen outside Boston. The scuffed, brown linoleum floor was peeling at the edges, the appliances outdated and old, all ’70s avocado green with lemon-yellow countertops. Any cooking utensils they had were all mismatched or makeshift – they never did find that 1t-measuring spoon – and there was only one good lid for all the pots, but Nonna made it work.

“Dinnertime, she’d walk in the dining room to make sure we were eating. Before she’d leave, she’d jam her finger at us and yell, ‘You good girls!’ It was like half-affirmation, half-threat.” The blonde laughed, picturing that gnarled, thin index finger thrusting in the air. “But I knew she meant it.”

Leaning back against the counter, Regina sipped her wine and watched Emma cook. She listened carefully as her girlfriend told her story in a very nonchalant tone. It was as if Emma was telling her about her day at work instead of what was obviously a special memory in a life in which those were few and far between.

Emma tugged the pan a final few times, then took it off the burner. She ran a wooden spoon through the pasta. “That’s ready. Would you drain it?” Regina did, scooping angel hair onto three square white plates. Emma followed, adding spoonful’s of scampi to two, marinara to one. Sprinkles of Parmesan cheese topped all three.

“Hen, dinner!” Emma called toward the hallway. She turned to find Regina right behind her, slender arms wrapping around her waist. Leaning her head on the blonde’s chest, Regina squeezed and sighed. She wanted to say much more: _I love you. I will make you happy. I will give you everything you deserve._ But she decided to wait. _Tomorrow night._ “You good girl, Emma Swan.”

“I…” It was _right_ there. _I love you._ It would be so easy. _Not yet. Not yet. Not yet._ Emma smiled. “I have my moments.”

XXXX

“Are you taking any time off work around the holidays?” The women lie snuggled in bed, intertwined in each other more than the covers.

“I usually take the week between Christmas and New Year’s off. Why?”

“Two reasons: 1. I need to use up vacation time and if I don’t take a week, I’ll lose it. And 2. I’d like to take you and Henry on a little road trip.”

Regina smiled, curious. “Where?”

“Boston. I want you to meet Robert, plus there’s all sorts of cool stuff we can do with Henry: the aquarium, the Children’s Museum, Museum of Science…” Emma trailed off, already planning their activities in her head. She hoped Regina would say yes, she booked the hotel two days earlier. Fascinated, the brunette watched her girlfriend get lost in her head. Her torso warmed in affection at the woman’s excitement, as well as the fact that her idea of a romantic getaway apparently included a very talkative, light-sleeping 3-year-old.

“I would love to, on one condition.” Green eyes narrowed in worry. She hadn’t expected a stipulation. “That you let me take you away tomorrow night.”

“Away where?

Regina turned and leveled a stare of pure sex at her bedmate, heavy-lidded eyes, lips pulled in a seductive leer. “More than a half-mile away…”

The blonde squinted in confusion until her memory kicked in. _Huh…OH._

“Really?” Emma asked excitedly. “Just you and me?”

“Yes, just us.”

Emma somehow drew Regina even closer and kissed her as passionately as she could without crossing a line over which she couldn’t step. At least for another 24 hours. “I suppose I’m free.”

XXXX

The annual Storybrooke Holiday Fair was one of the biggest days of the town year. The summer festivals and concerts were shared with tourists and seasonal residents; the Holiday Fair was reserved for the diehard, hearty, year-round Mainers, a shared secret, a fun time just to themselves.

Every business and public building opened on the last Saturday before Christmas. The retail stores offered mulled cider, hot chocolate and baked goods, the library had kids’ crafts and a puppet show, town hall a sing-a-long, decorate your own gingerbread men, a craft fair and a gift-wrapping area.

Most everyone walked Main Street first, each business and building decked out to the hilt. Churches were usually the next stop – the hand bell choir and living nativity were big draws - followed by an old-fashioned trolley ride to the waterfront attractions. The town rented the trolley for the day, running a loop all day long, carting revelers there and back again, everyone happy, finishing up shopping, running into friends and enjoying the feel of a close-knit, small town.

Kathryn’s group date had been meandering the festivities for two hours. Between the four women they knew everyone, which meant a lot of stopping, talking, eating and shopping. Emma was getting itchy, thinking about her evening plans, and wishing her group’s townwide social obligation was nearing its end, when she felt a gloved hand take hers and squeeze. She smiled in reply, then was thrilled when fingers remained intertwined as they walked and talked. In public. Wow. She caught Regina’s eyes and stared in disbelief, then full-on arousal, as brown eyes seemed to telegraph thoughts about the night to come.

“You all red Cheef,” Henry noticed.

“It’s freezing out, man,” she muttered, spying the open door of the 18th-century Longwood House. “Oooh, let’s go in here. Chinese auction. Santa pictures.”

Kathryn shot an admiring glance at Regina. “You’re evil.”

Emma followed Henry into the historical house’s large parlor, which was decked out in prizes for the auction, proceeds to benefit the town’s Women’s Club.

“Afternoon, Chief.” Emma followed the sound of her title to find Martha selling tickets off to the right, an apron full of tickets and change tied around her waist.

“Hey, there. What’s the damage?”

“A sheet of 20 is $10.”

“Alright, give this gentleman one of your luckiest sheets.” Henry was hopping up and down on the balls of his feet. “Say hi to Miss Martha, Hen.”

“Hi Miff Marfa,” he dutifully parroted.

Emma realized she had never seen Martha ever truly smile – at least not in the classic definition - but whatever was going on with her lips at the moment was as close as she’d witnessed. The older woman leaned in, handing over the tickets to Henry, who ran off, leaving Emma to pay. “The Mayor’s a good woman and he’s a fine boy.” Emma couldn’t tell if she was being warned or congratulated. “You’ll do right by them. I know it.” _Ah._

“Thank you,” she smiled, surprisingly moved by the Yankee’s version of demonstrative emotional approval. “So you’re gonna rig this for me so I can win whatever I want?”

Martha grumbled, pushing her chuckling boss by the shoulder, away from the table. “Get outta here. I think your boy wants to win that bike there.” Low Down East vowels that mandate the dropping of all Rs turned the final words of each sentence out into the characteristic, drawn-out “hee-yah” and “they-ya.”

Ruby walked up, nodding hello at Martha, overhearing her final observation. Emma turned as they headed for Henry, who was stuffing the raffle bag in front of the bike. “ _My_ boy?”

“Well, you know Martha, if she’s says he’s your boy, don’t even bother with adoption papers. Ready for the big trip?”

She was ready. So ready, in fact, Emma suggested they blow off the festival, leave Henry with their friends and dash away early. Regina looked aghast as if the woman suggested they put the boy up for adoption.

_“But it’s the Holiday Festival!”_

_“OK, jeez, relax,” she giggled. “I’ll just go eat my weight in gingerbread.”_

_“Good, you’ll need the energy later.”_

“I am ready, yes. Can we not broadcast this? It’s bad enough Kathryn knows, she keeps looking at me weird. Where is your date, anyway?”

“Some parent’s got her by the front door.”

Emma hesitated. “Will she be OK with Henry?”

Ruby tried not to smile at the sincere concern in Emma’s voice. “She’s had him overnight before, she knows what’s she’s doing. He’ll be fine, Mom.”

Emma pulled a gingerbread man out of her pocket and bit off the head. “Shut up.”

On the other side of the house, finally free of questioning parents, Kathryn caught up to Regina in the sitting room as she watched children wait for a turn on Santa’s lap.

“You need any hot tips?” she whispered.

“For what?”

“Tonight.” Both women stared straight ahead, benign, practiced smiles on their faces as if they were totally grossed in the picture-taking.

“What would you know?”

“I’ve seen both seasons of Orange Is The New Black.”

Eyes squinted in confusion. “What is that?”

“A show about women in prison.”

Regina nodded and smiled at a Planning Board member across the room, her incredulous voice belaying the happy expression on her face. “Good Lord. You’re equating my love for an amazing woman to a women’s prison show?”

“‘Equating’ is a strong word. But if you want to know the logistics of having sex in a bathroom stall, I’m your girl.”

Regina brought her fist to her mouth trying to stifle a giggle. “I can’t even with you. And Emma’s _my girl._ ”

“You big mush. I love it.”

“What?”

Adopting her most superior gaze, Regina eyed her best friend. No one knew the women had yet to make love. It was no one’s business, yet Kathryn and Ruby seemed to assume the pair were rutting on every available surface throughout Storybrooke.

“At this point, dear, I think I’m the expert.”

Turning on her heel, Regina walked out of the room, victorious, Kathryn’s mouth agape. Once in the hallway, she spotted Emma, feeling butterflies flutter as she drew near.

“There was a guy in the other room giving me the evil eye,” the blonde noted. “White beard and hair.”

“You just described Santa.”

“Not him, the _other_ guy. Had a chain-drive wallet. Flannel shirt. Barn coat.”

“You just described 42% of Maine.”

Regina peeked her head around the corner to look. “Oh, that’s Cal Burbank. He’s an old coot. He doesn’t like a ‘lady mayor’.” Long fingers curled into air quotes, exasperation in her voice. “To be honest, I think he’s still mad women got the vote and wear pants in public.” Regina grabbed Emma’s hand again. “Don’t mind him.”

“Oh, I don’t.” Emma didn’t, she’d had her share of homophobes in her life. “I’m surprised there hasn’t been more.”

“I think you’ll find Storybrooke more open-minded than you anticipated.”

“That’s been my experience so far, I hope it continues.” _Considering I’m dating the formerly straight Mayor_ being left unsaid.

“Speaking of Storybrooke, I think it’s time we take our leave.”

“Really?” Green eyes danced with excitement. Emma felt a hand firmly squeeze her own.

“Yes.”

XXXX

“I could get used to this.” Emma announced to herself in front of the fire, feet up, wine in hand. The couple arrived 45 minutes earlier, following a leisurely drive out to camp featuring Christmas carols on the radio and near-constant hand-holding. A thick air of anticipation hung in the Mercedes as they made small talk about the festival, town gossip and their favorite subject, Henry.

Once arrived, Regina made a fire and settled the pair, insisting Emma relax and open the wine. “I am a big fan of this division of duties,” the blonde smiled, grabbing the brunette’s waist from behind and kissing her neck.

Emma glanced around the Midas’ camp as she sipped her Merlot, Regina having disappeared into the back. Not as finished as a home yet more polished than a rustic camp, the getaway was utilitarian and warm. Its function was clear: ski racks adorned the mudroom, boot racks by the fire. “It has running water and electricity,” Regina noted. “That’s a big deal.”

 _It would be nice to have a place like this_ , Emma mused, watching the flames dance amidst crackles and pops. While Storybrooke was light years from resembling a city, there was something about being in a warm cabin in the pitch-black woods. When she stepped out of the car upon arrival, she couldn’t believe how dark it was.

_“It’s something, isn’t it?” Regina asked. Emma heard the woman feel her way around the front of the car and grab her hand. “Look up.”_

Emma did and gasped, the cold air shocking her lungs as she spied what appeared to be every star in the galaxy hanging overhead, like The Powers That Be emptied miles of glitter onto the Heavens.

“I’ve never seen so many stars,” she breathed in wonder. Regina snugged into Emma’s side, both hands holding onto her bicep, her neck craned to the sky.

“Gorgeous.”

They stood holding each other in the frigid dark for a minute, the only sound their breathing.

“C’mon, let’s go in. It’s freezing. I don’t want to get eaten by a bear and I didn’t bring my gun.”

Emma let her mind wander, picturing a homey cabin, Henry bopping around the woods, swimming in the summer, skiing in the winter. _Of course he’d have to teach me about the great outdoors,_ she laughed to herself. One week of Catholic Charities summer camp over 25 years ago wouldn’t go far.

She glanced around the camp once more, pine walls seemingly shining from lamplight. The front door led directly to the mudroom, which emptied out into the open-area kitchen. The kitchen merged into the large living room. A hallway just past the fireplace led to the master bedroom, two smaller bedrooms and the bathroom. Atop the living room was a loft, featuring more sleeping space.

“Regina?” she yelled out toward the hallway. “Honey? Want to eat?”

Emma headed toward the fridge, opening the door to see just what the brunette had stashed in the cooler she made Emma haul in. More wine. Cold cuts. Fruit. Cheese. Her stomach began to growl, she hadn’t eaten since she’d ingested that family of gingerbread people at the festival. Emma shut the door and turned, called out again: “Regi—”

The blonde’s jaw dropped, eyes blown wide, brain imploding, as she registered the sight before her: 5’2” of supple olive flesh encased in a maroon negligee. Held up by thin straps, the garment dipped into a deep v over Regina’s chest, firm breasts straining against the smooth material. It curved around supple hips, hiding treasures, stopping at bare mid-thighs.

“…na?”

“I don’t want food,” she husked. Her voice was breathy and vulnerable yet somehow steely and determined at the same time.

A shiver of excitement – or perhaps the beginnings of a stroke – ran down Emma’s spine as she slowly walked up to her girlfriend, as though the gorgeous vision would disappear if she advanced too quickly. Her hands hovered over Regina’s bare biceps in one last pause. She knew the minute she touched this woman she would never, ever stop. Using all her will to go slow, Emma caught brown eyes and nodded in overwhelming gratitude. A slow, grateful smile spread across her face as she leaned down and captured Regina’s lips in a gentle, almost tentative, kiss. She felt Regina smile into the kiss and sigh, tasting mint as her tongue stroked the inside of the brunette’s mouth. _She brushed her teeth._

Emma’s hands, already warm from the fire, slowly snaked over the slippery fabric and sensuous flesh of Regina’s satin-clad body, landing on an area about which the blonde had long dreamed. Long fingers spread and squeezed Regina’s firm behind, eliciting a low moan from the brunette’s throat. Tongues skimming and gliding, she realized how much preparation Regina had done for this night: the cabin, the food, her negligee, hell, even the teeth-brushing. _She did all this for me…for us._

“Regina,” she breathed, “I—”

“Ssshhhh.” A long, thin finger pressed against Emma’s lips, halting her words. She gently took the blonde’s hand and led her down the hallway to the master bedroom, which was lit by a series of flickering candles, shadows staining the pine walls. A hearty, spicy-sweet scent filled the air; Emma could detect notes of cinnamon and orange.

Stepping back into Emma’s arms, Regina found her lips once again, hands snaking around the blonde’s waist and under her sweater, squeezing the bare flesh of her lower back, a brave finger skirting just under the band of her…thong? Regina drew back and looked up, brown eyes questioning. Green smirked back.

Emma pulled away briefly, quickly yanking her sweater over her head and unbuttoning her jeans, which pooled to the ground in a soft thud. For the first time, Regina eyed her girlfriend in just a bra and panties: firm thighs, tight abs, proud breasts and, oh, those arms. Candlelight cast a warm hue over normally fair skin, softening hard, muscular angles into soft, rounded curves. Regina was stuck between wanting to worship this creature or consumer her whole, losing herself in supple flesh.

Arousal flared as Emma did a slow 360 turn in place, giving her girlfriend plenty of time to inspect her back, including the thin strip of royal-blue cotton that disappeared between two toned globes of flesh. The blonde returned to her starting position with a smirk, arms splayed to the sides: _ta-da._ Regina practically vaulted back into her arms, Emma giggling at her girlfriend’s enthusiasm between eager kisses. She felt two hands slowly slide down her back and stop on her ass, splayed fingers kneading urgently.

“Mmmmm,” Emma hummed, her skin electrified by needy touches, which had climbed her back and were now tugging on a reluctant bra strap. She had to pull away from their kiss and laugh after Regina grunted into her mouth in frustration.

“It’s different when it’s not your own,” she smiled, winding her arms to her back and expertly unclasping the hook and eye. She left it undone, but on, and moved back into Regina’s personal space once more. Catching the hint, the brunette brought both hands to Emma’s shoulders and slowly slid the undergarment off, laying eyes on her girlfriend’s full breasts for the first time. Regina exhaled with an excited shudder and tentatively cupped one in fascination, a thumb skirting over the nipple. It felt so odd, holding something so familiar yet in a completely new way. Emma exhaled with a quiver. Lips dipped to take her thumb’s place, but Emma halted the plan with a soft, “Uh uh…” Regina looked up, confused. _Did I do something wrong?_

“As beautiful as this is, it has to go,” Emma husked, moving her hand to a maroon spaghetti strap, feather-light touches ghosting over the creamy skin of a shoulder. “Is that OK?”

“Please.” Awash in sensation, Regina closed her eyes as sure hands moved to her shoulders and slowly slid off the straps, the silky garment sliding to the ground, unveiling a supple body like a curtain retreating to the wings of a stage.

Emma had thought about this moment for months – what it would be like to lay eyes on the brunette nude. She had imagined it repeatedly and, despite her varied knowledge of the uncovered female form, even her wildest conjurings fell short of reality. Plush curves and taunt planes were rendered even warmer in the candlelight; Emma’s throat felt tight as she gulped the air and stepped out of her thong.

For the first time, the women stood in front of each other naked, in every sense of the word: body, emotion and need. They paused for a few seconds, gaping, then came together forehead to toe in a kiss full of desperate lust, love and worship. Urgent moans and shaky breaths filled the electrified air as hands scrambled and legs intertwined, each trying to immediately and completely consume the other.

Emboldened, Regina maneuvered the pair to the bed, which when collided with the back of Emma’s knees sent them flying to the mattress in laughter, the brunette’s weight landing deliciously atop Emma’s. The blonde’s body instinctively knew what to do, immediately spreading her legs and snaking a firm thigh between them, her hand grabbing Regina’s ass to anchor her grinding. _No. Wait. Regina first_ , her mind unconsciously providing what would become her life’s new mission statement.

Emma flipped them and straddled Regina’s torso. Her mouth followed suit, kissing and licking any velvety skin she could find in a wide swath from neck to breast. The brunette whimpered loudly as she felt a hot, wet mouth engulf a nipple, laving and nibbling sensitive flesh as a hand stroked her side gently in loving reassurance. Emma could feel Regina’s legs squirming beneath her fighting for friction.

“Emma,” she panted desperately. “Please, I can’t…”

Regina felt a smile against her breast, then cool air stinging a wet nipple as the eager mouth retreated. Emma repeated her affections on its twin, her right hand snaking down a flat abdomen, fingers slowly whispering over a patch of neat curls.

“Oh, God, please,” Regina pleaded through closed eyes, limbs writhing. In addition to Emma’s lips, tongue and hands, her abundant hair was sliding all over Regina’s overheated skin, causing silky tickles wherever it went.

Emma inhaled, the warm unique scent that was Regina overpowering her senses. She wanted to spend hours licking and sucking every square inch of flesh the woman had to offer, but she knew it was torturous to make her wait any longer. She kissed and nipped her way down the taut torso, stopping to lave the skin just above Regina’s pubic bone as her fingers stroked the inside of taut thighs. Her tongue detecting tiny disruptions in the otherwise smooth flesh, she looked, spying faint traces of stretch marks. Smiling, she kissed them deeper.

Unleashing an impatient moan, Regina lifted her hips off the bed. Emma followed the suggestion, stroking a finger over the entrance of the brunette’s sex. She was just about to part flesh when she remembered something extremely important.

“Wait,” she announced, lifting her head off Regina’s abs. “Wait.”

“What?” Regina practically screeched in between panting breaths; she was so ready. “What is it?”

Leaving her hand in place, Emma continued to lightly stroke the outside of Regina’s folds with one finger as she raised her head to capture lust-blown pupils. “I…” she panted, her heart racing a mile a minute. “I have to tell you.” She cupped Regina’s face with her left hand trying to lean her weight on her elbow so she didn’t crush the woman.

“I love you. More than I ever knew was possible. I love you, Regina. I love you so much.”

The statement was like hitting the brakes on a car about to hurtle off a cliff. One minute Regina was soaring, the next, stock-still. Emma kissed her girlfriend tenderly, gently, passion and urgency gone in a millisecond. They rubbed noses, Emma pulling away, head dipped slightly, green eyes more timid and bashful than Regina had ever seen.

“Is that OK?”

The brunette laughed, a glorious, melodious sound that echoed off the walls. The longer it went on, the higher it rose, starting to resemble a slightly hysterical cackle. The woman was 10 seconds from a furious orgasm, about to wash away four years of isolation and loneliness, when she heard the words she had been too frightened to say herself.

“Yes, my God, yes.” Her eyes bore into Emma’s as she brushed back a thick hank of hair from the blonde’s face. “I love you, too. Truly. With all my heart.”

They kissed again, passion returned and rising quickly, like a brakeless bicycle speeding down a steep hill.

“Now, for the love of God,” she urged, beatific smile turning wanton, “finish what you started.”

With a dirty chuckle, Emma lay on the bed next to Regina, winding her left arm around the brunette’s shoulders in a half-hold. She kissed her deeply, resting her lips by her ear. Regina gasped, then moaned, as Emma entered her smoothly, two fingers slowly, gently, encased in slick, tight, hot flesh.

“Tell me what you want,” Emma hissed, so close Regina could feel lips moving against her ear. “Tell me what feels good.”

“That…I…I…oh….”

Fingers pumping languidly, Emma’s thumb skimmed north to find a throbbing, neglected clit, which sprang to attention with the lightest of touches.

“There!” Regina’s hips shot off the bed with a cry. “Oh my God, right there.” Grunting and moaning, she splayed her legs wider, feet planted flat as she met Emma’s hand pumping and stroking in rhythm. “Fuck, I—”

Emma smirked to herself, she had never heard Regina curse. Her sex throbbed at the erotic sights and sounds of her girlfriend coming undone so thoroughly and quickly. The smells of sweat, sex and perfume hung heavy over the bed.

“You’re so gorgeous. I love you so much.” Emma dropped her voice as low as it could go, urgent and demanding, thinking it might do the trick. “Come for me, baby. _Let go._ I wanna hear you. _Come on_ , come all over my—”

In a split second, Emma felt the telltale pressure on her fingers, Regina climaxing with a violent shudder, a loud, desperate, primal cry reverberating around the room. Emma stilled her hand, worried that if she worked the woman any further, it would be too much. Regina’s hands grabbed Emma’s wrist as she anchored herself around the source of her stimulation, bucking and jerking wildly against still fingers, riding out the wave. Emma watched in amazement, she had never seen anyone come so hard in her life.

While Regina came down, randomly gasping and shaking with nonsensical noises, Emma kept her head pressed into smooth, black hair, kissing a temple and offering murmured words of love and adoration. Soon, the only sound in the room was Regina’s deep breaths. Emma removed her hand, wiping it as best she could on her hip, then curled over her girlfriend in a tender embrace until she heard her breathing slow.

Softly kissing Regina’s cheeks, Emma was surprised to detect moisture. And salt. Oh no. She focused and found tears silently running down Regina’s cheeks, moisture pooled in her eyes.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, heart in her chest. “Are you OK? Did I hurt you?” Regina pushed tears out of her eyes with her index fingers and found panicked green eyes staring back. “Jesus, baby, I am so sorry.” The sight of a devastated Emma oddly made Regina’s heart seize in affection. _She truly loves me._

“No, no, I’m fine. These are…” she searched for the right words, “happy tears, I guess? I’m just so overwhelmed that was…that was amazing.” Regina turned on her side, facing a slowly recovering face, and lovingly kissed pink lips. “That was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.” The brunette scanned her memories. She had enjoyed a healthy, happy sex life with Daniel but nothing - nothing - ever made her feel like that.

“When you say ‘unlike’ that’s a good thing?”

She grinned. “‘Good’ would be an understatement.”

Exhaling with relief, Emma dropped her face to the pillow. “Thank God, I was petrified I hurt you or you were upset.”

“I can’t believe I can even speak right now,” Regina giggled as Emma scooped her into an embrace.

The pair had been laying still and silent, enjoying the feel of skin-to-skin, full-body contact, when Emma felt fingers skimming the rise of her hip, then falling to stroke her buttocks. “Mmmmmm,” she hummed contentedly.

“What about you?” husked a low voice.

Eyes closed, Emma reveled in the sensation. “Normally, I’d want us to come together, but tonight I wanted to focus on you first. I wanted to make you feel good.”

“You certainly did.” Regina paused, then finding her voice, she pressed on. “I want to make you feel good.”

“You almost did 15 minutes ago without even touching me,” Emma laughed. “God, you are so sexy.” Arousal flared in Emma’s core at the memory.

“I…I want to make you feel like I did.” Emma felt hesitant fingers dip to her thigh, then skirt closer to her sex. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Mmmm, keep doing that,” she encouraged. “There’s no right or wrong, do what you think I might like. Do what you like. That’s part of the fun.” Emma’s voice seemed to drop an octave. “Experimentation.” She laughed at the truth of her latest thought. “You’ve got me so turned on, I think I’d come if you winked at me.”

Regina leaned up from her spot on Emma’s chest and kissed the blonde deeply, passionately. The sensual smacks of lips and tongue filled the air as Regina’s fingers continued to play just outside of the area in which Emma needed them most. _She’s unsure._

Emma snaked her hand south and linked her fingers with Regina’s, drawing them into slick, wet sex for an erotic guided tour. Emma groaned while Regina gasped at the sensation.

“See what you do to me?” Emma moaned, astounded at how impossibly wet she was. “You make me feel so good and you hadn’t even touched me.”

Sure fingers helped inexperienced ones start a rhythm, eventually pulling away. Emma needed both hands to brace herself on the bed, she was going to climax soon - and hard. Hips began driving and rolling as Regina rubbed and stroked, astounded by Emma’s visceral reaction, the heat of her sex and sound of fingers slipping and sliding in steaming, saturated flesh. The rhythm was erratic and unpracticed, but Emma didn’t care. It wouldn’t the most skilled, efficient orgasm she’d ever experienced but who cares, it was Regina doing this to her, for her, out of love. And they were going to have a hell of a lot of fun enjoying Regina honing her skills.

Emma had been careful never to swear in front of the woman. Regina wasn’t a prude, but the blonde considered her vocabulary control a sign of respect, of worship. There was something about Regina that, from Day 1, made Emma want to hold herself to a higher standard. But in bed, goddamn, nothing turned her on faster like a little dirty talk. She nearly came on the spot when Regina dropped an f-bomb earlier, she thought she’d test the waters.

“Unnnnnnnn. Fuck, yeah, baby. Right…gaaaah.” Emma heard a tiny gasp of excitement? Arousal? Either way, Regina’s fingers pushed a little rougher, a little faster, prompting Emma to cant her hips. “ _Yes._ Mmmm. Your thumb…can you move it…” Emma tried to direct unpracticed fingers through closed eyes, having lost the power of focus and that of speech, her mind jumbled amidst a cloud of stimulation and hot, sweaty sex. Moving blindly, she found Regina’s thumb and guided it to her clit.

“There! Right th… _harder_ , baby, please.”

Regina followed orders, astounded by the sight of the strong, commanding blonde mewling, begging at the mere flick of her wrist, the twitch of her fingers. The sights, sounds and smells of the scene reignited Regina’s core once more. _I'm going to come again._

“Emma,” she commanded, almost desperate, unsure where the strong, deep voice came from.

A guttural moan rang out through the room, as Emma jerked her hips, riding out a ferocious orgasm. Regina was astounded, watching the almost-ethereal scene, the feeling of Emma’s body milking her fingers, her lone tether to reality.

Once Emma’s breathing slowed a touch, Regina was nearly out of her mind with want. “I need you,” she panted, rolling on top of her lover, grinding her sex against a firm thigh. The situation snapping into focus, Emma slipped her hand in between her leg and her lover, Regina riding her fingers with rolling hips until she climaxed with a fierce cry, collapsing into Emma’s strong arms.

“That was…” Emma lay flat on her back, boneless, unable to complete a thought. Regina pushed abundant blonde hair away from her lover’s face to kiss a sweaty, salty temple.

The thought hung in the air, incomplete, as neither could find a fitting adjective. The gurgle of Emma’s hungry stomach interrupted the silence.

“I warned you,” the blonde giggled at the absurdity of the situation, still breathing more deeply than she expected. “I warned you I needed food, but noooo. No, you had to ravage poor, innocent me.” Regina felt a hand take hers. “And now, now, you know, you sexed me up so hard I don’t think I can get out of bed. So I’ll just rot here, on a stomach of digested gingerbread and one incredible, mind-blowing orgasm.”

“Was it really good?” Regina asked, unsure.

“Are you crazy?” Emma willed the strength to turn on her side toward the brunette. “That was you, right? You did hear me?”

“Yes.”

“And feel me?”

Regina’s groin nearly twitched at the memory of the sensations and sounds, the heat. “Yes.”

“Then you should know, my love…” Emma gently bussed kiss-swollen lips, reveling in the good fortune to use a new term of endearment. “That it was incredible.” She gathered the woman in her arms and trailed fingertips over a sweat-damp hip. “I’m not blowing smoke, I’m wiped.”

“I brought food, I could fix us something. Do you think you could muster the strength to make it to the living room couch?” Regina slowly sat up on the bed, then stood, worried if she moved too fast she’d falter; most of her blood had retreated from her brain to regions south. Scanning the floor she found her robe and donned it, then reached out a hand to Emma. “Come with me.”

A snarky retort, a cheap joke was right there: low-hanging fruit. There’s no way Kathryn would lay off that, and normally Emma would have similar difficulty, refraining from swinging at a big, hanging, verbal fastball right down the middle of the plate. But it wasn’t the time or the place; she didn’t want to joke about or downplay the significance of what just transpired. Wrapping her bare form in the comforter, Emma stood sluggishly, and swallowed in fabric shuffled over to take her girlfriend’s hand. “I would follow you anywhere.”

XXXX

As good as the bed was, the couch was fast proving an equal. Emma reclined against Regina’s chest, sipping champagne from a coffee mug as the brunette fed her strawberries, the thick comforter piling around them.

“I can’t believe you brought champagne but not flutes,” Emma scoffed.

“I brought the cold cuts and fruit. Complain to Kathryn, she’s the one who provided the champagne…and no suitable stemware.”

Emma tilted her chin up to check Regina’s face and see if she was kidding, but was rewarded with a strawberry plunked in her mouth. “Bite,” Regina commanded, her girlfriend following orders dutifully. “She shoved it at me when we dropped Henry off. And a box of condoms.”

Emma roared, nearly choking on the fruit. “I really like her.”

“That’s what worries me.” Regina ran the half-eaten strawberry down Emma’s neck, then followed with her tongue, cleaning up the sticky-sweet trail.

“Has she left any messages? Have you checked your phone?” Regina shook her head as she sipped her champagne. She loved the protective side of Emma and adored the way she had devoted herself to Henry.

“She’s probably teaching him poker and making him watch The Bachelorette,” Regina chuckled. “It’s OK, we’ve got years to deprogram him.”

Emma smiled beneath the exhaustion. _We. We have years. With Henry. Together._

“I love how much you love him,” Regina amended, eyes wide and serious, as she reached for her purse on the coffee table and dug out her phone to ease Emma’s obvious concern.

“He’s easy to love. Like you.” A blonde head dipped shyly, overwhelmed by the truth of the statement. Regina thought it was one of the most adorable things she’d ever seen in her life. She kissed the crown of Emma’s head and woke up her phone to find a text.

Attached to a picture of a sleeping Henry was the message:

**If you come up for air and read this, everything is fine. This is what’s going on in my bed. What’s going on in yours? Send pictures.**

Chuckling, she handed the phone to Emma. “Ah, no.”

“So what’s next on our camping agenda? We ate. Henry’s fine. We’re not taking any pictures. What do we do now?” Emma eyed the half-full champagne bottle and remembered the bottle they’d killed earlier, plus another full white in the fridge. “We’re gonna get toasted and spend all night naked?”

“That was my thought.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed as she finished her champagne and tipped Regina’s mug back indicating the brunette should follow suit. Placing both cups on the coffee table, the blonde stood, naked, the comforter abandoned on the couch. Regina stood unsure, but smiled when Emma pulled the tie on her robe and slid it off. She gently threaded the brunette’s arms around her neck and grabbed her ass, pulling her up, legs wrapped around her waist.

One arm supported the brunette’s mouthwatering behind, the other grabbed the champagne as they headed for the bedroom. Emma took a pull off the bottle and smiled lecherously, carrying Regina down the hallway: “I like the way you think.”

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thanks to NoSoup395 who coined the phrase “DED Heads” for fans of this story. It made me smile like an idiot.
> 
> 2\. If you’re wondering when the next update will land, feel free to PM or follow me on tumblr: leftsideofthecouch dot tumblr dot com. I try to provide updates there as to when the next chapter is coming using the tag #down east decisions. Right now I’m guessing every 10 days or so, these chapters are so damn long it’s too hard to jam them into an every-Sunday schedule.
> 
> 3\. If you want that shrimp scampi recipe, Google “taste of home shrimp scampi.” It’s super easy and good, lol.


	13. Chapter 13

The week following their trip to the Midas camp was magical.

After joyfully, lustily, crossing that final line together, the couple had reached a new level of comfort and ease, one that was readily apparent the moment they arrived on Kathryn’s doorstep to pick up Henry the following day.

The woman had barely swung open the door when Henry barreled into four legs, short arms stretching wide, trying to grip them all at once. “Momma! Cheef! You back!”

The pair smiled down at the boy beatifically, Regina running her hands through floppy bangs, Emma squeezing a shoulder. When Regina raised her eyes to Kathryn, the blonde nearly gasped: She had never seen her best friend look so relaxed and peaceful.

“I don’t wanna know,” she began as the pair stepped into the house. “Wait, I _do_ want to know. What the hell did you do?”

“What exactly do you mean?”

“You look…” Kathryn had a hard time completing that sentence. Her best friend’s features looked softer, her smile wider, eyes clearer. She looked like the personification of bliss. “You…” she continued, now training her gaze on Emma. She sat on the couch with a naughty smirk, Henry finding her lap like a magnet. “What the hell…is the camp still standing or did you two blow it up with your wanton misadventures?”

Emma’s smile widened. They sure tried. A tiny flutter of arousal flared as she recalled the morning: waking up naked and sated, bare limbs tangled with those of Regina. A sleepy smile quickly morphed into an indecent gaze, which sparked another lengthy, lusty, vocal round of love making. When they finally emerged from the bedroom, Emma made omelets for the pair, a harder-than-usual undertaking thanks to Regina’s demanding lips and hands.

_“Dammit, woman, if you’re going to molest me again, I need some protein,” she grinned through a kiss, nipping a full lip. She pointed to a table setting on the opposite side of hers. “You’re over there. Eat up.”_

_One perfect black eyebrow arched to the sky._

_“Stop!” Emma snorted. “I’ve created a monster.”_

_“I have a lot of time to make up for.”_

_“And you’re going to kill me in the process.” The blonde smiled as she worked on a mouthful of eggs. “But what a way to go.”_

_Following breakfast and cleanup, the one-person camp shower found itself host to two, the tight space not proving as much of an impediment as the lack of hot water. Once dressed, they packed and hauled their belongings back to the Mercedes before returning to the front door for one last look._

_Arms slung around each other’s waist, Emma kissed the top of Regina’s head. “I want to buy this place,” she murmured into still damp black hair._

_“Very funny.”_

_Emma smiled to herself and led them back to the car, which brought them home far earlier than expected. They weren’t due to pick Henry up for another two hours._

_“We could go grab him,” Emma offered innocently, dropping their bags in the foyer. Regina sidled up beside her girlfriend and squeezed a hand, casting a wicked glance toward the stairs._

_One hour and forty-five minutes later, they raced around Regina’s bedroom trying to find hastily flung clothes._

_“I can’t believe we didn’t see the time,” Regina grumbled, tossing a pair of underwear at her girlfriend._

_“Hey, if you’re naked, the last thing I’m looking at is a clock.”_

_“I have to take a quick shower. Two minutes. Alone. I smell like sex.”_

_“What’s the big deal?” Emma hopped on one foot trying to land the other leg in her jeans. “We’re just picking him up.”_

_“At_ Kathryn’s _.”_

_She smirked, pulling her head through her sweater. That woman was probably a bloodhound. “Good point, go-go-go.”_

“I won’t lie, lady. We came close.” Emma blew on her knuckles and rubbed her chest in self congratulation. Her face scrunched as she watched a beaming Henry smile at her. “What?”

“I glad you’re home.” Straddling her legs, he flung both arms around her neck in a tight hug.

_This fucking kid._ “I’m glad to be home, too.”

XXXX

Regina was laying in the dark when she finally accepted her mother was not a good one.

Propped up against pillows, she reclined half-asleep and content, a conked-out Emma pillowed on her chest, blonde locks everywhere, hugging Regina’s body. She had learned over the past few weeks that if she wanted to actually sleep, she first had to untangle herself from her lover’s unconscious koala grip. But now, she was content to let her girlfriend embrace her in her sleep like a lifeline, as though Regina were so precious someone would steal her while Emma slept. She sighed, gratified, at the woman’s obvious love and devotion, lips curling at the corners as she felt the soft, slow rise and fall of Emma’s chest.

And then she heard it.

“Love is weakness.” Her mother’s cold tones rang through her head. She could picture the woman as if she were right there, standing sternly at the foot of the bed, gazing on in disapproval at the warm, loving scene.

She mused Cora would have done well in medieval times, when people married for power or strategy, not love. She knew her mother didn’t love her father; she respected him, or at least his family’s financial accomplishments. Regina understood her mother did love her in her own, unique way. _Twisted way,_ she could hear Kathryn amend.

Nancy Midas was the mom you always wanted. Regina would escape after school to watch MTV with Kathryn, giggling up in her friend's room, drinking Pepsi and eating Doritos - foods forbidden in the Mills house. She’d brush her teeth at the Midas’ before she left, lest her mother smell or spy any incriminating fat, sugar or fun on her person. She’d never forget the time she came home with a hint of orange Doritos dust on the collar of her white blouse. “Foundation,” she quickly explained away under her mother’s suspicious gaze. “We were trying out new makeup. Sorry, I thought I took it all off.”

Cora quickly shook her head in disappointment and exhaled in frustration. “It’s a horrid shade for you, dear. Orange? Honestly.”

Amusingly, Regina knew had her mother been alive today, she most likely wouldn’t have been upset her daughter was dating a woman. The reason: Emma was successful, and at least in Storybrooke terms, powerful. Daniel was not. They had met when he was a newly graduated forestry major from the University of Maine and applied for a job with Mills Lumber.

“He’s a lumberjack!” Cora bellowed a year later when she discovered they had been dating for almost the entire time. She would never forget her father's face in the background, trying to offer silent support for the relationship, yet never opening his mouth or uttering a syllable.

The domineering woman refused to let the couple get engaged. Daniel asked time and time again, only for Regina to refuse, crippled under the psychic hold of her mother's ambition – as well as the hope that her daughter would fall for a lawyer if she stalled them enough.

"Fucking hell," Kathryn spat. "You know she's delivered his picture to every jeweler on the eastern seaboard with the words 'Do not sell a diamond to this man lest I crush your balls in a vice.' Fuck her, honey, you wanna get married, get married. I'll be there."

But Kathryn knew, no matter how much Regina loved Daniel, she could never pull the trigger without her mother's blessing, which she finally got after six years of dating. Succumbing to Cora's wishes sparked a series of painful, no-win, "If I…" questions in the wake of Daniel's death, ones that tended to roll in like a fog every few months: _If I had not bent to my mother's wishes and married Daniel years earlier, would we have had more children? A different life? Would he still be here?_

Regina was snapped out of her reverie as Emma shifted in her sleep with a soft snort and a smack of her lips. She felt the blonde squeeze her with a content hum then drift back to sleep. She ran her hand in circles over Emma's strong back, her fingers enjoying the feel of the soft cotton Bruins jersey the woman had chosen for bed. Following the somewhat self-hypnotic rhythm, her mind drifted back again to her mother. Cora would have approved of Emma as a partner for her daughter, yes, but she would have disliked the fact that Regina got involved with someone in the first place.

"You're smart and successful, a whole career ahead of you. Why do you want to be tied down so young?" She remembered Cora launching her trademark allegedly innocent observation/cutting remark one night at dinner, sipping a Rusty Nail. Regina nearly shuddered just thinking of that concoction, it tasted like a toothache cure. She heard her father describe it perfectly once, muttering to himself under his breath: "Hard drink for a hard woman."

"Love is weakness," Cora declared, ice clinking as she drained the last of the drink, an eyebrow arched in stony warning. She tipped the empty glass toward Regina to punctuate her statement: “Mark my words."

Regina looked down at the woman in her arms, fair features missing under a blizzard of blonde hair. She knew Emma was there, somewhere, she could feel a nose poking into her ribs. This strong, amazing, accomplished woman, who had seamlessly changed her life - and that of her son - out of nowhere was here, in her arms, in her bed. Emma was the answer to a question Regina never thought to ask.

_Love isn't weakness_ , she told herself, untangling from Emma's octopus limbs as she settled onto her side, her head sinking deliciously into a soft pillow. She heard her girlfriend shift into her new solo-sleeping reality, sheets rustling, body sliding into a new position. Was that a whine? Brown eyes were nearly shut and focused on slumber when she felt long fingers caress her cheek. "Love you," came the half-conscious whisper, a thumb skimming her cheekbone. Regina took the hand and guided the knuckles to her lips in the dark.

"I love you."

Closing her eyes, one last thought slid across her consciousness before slipping into the dark: _Love isn’t weakness. It's strength._

XXXX

Christmas prep was in full swing at 108 Mifflin Street. Tree up, house decorated, young child practically vibrating with excitement.

Regina hung her stocking and Henry’s off the mantle, stepping back a few feet to assess the scene. “Almost perfect. What’s missing, Henry?”

She turned to the boy with a grin. He stared back, eyes narrowed. She tilted her head toward the opposite end of the room and pointedly cleared her throat.

“Oh!” The child scampered behind the couch and pulled out one final decoration. “We got dis for you!” He literally jumped with joy. Clutched in a pudgy hand was a traditional red Christmas stocking, the white cuff adored in golden, glue-glittered, neat script: Chief.

“I pushed for ‘Emma’,” Regina noted in a whisper. “I was overruled.”

Emma crouched down to hug Henry, moisture gathering in her eyes. “It’s perfect, bud.” She cleared her throat and gazed lovingly over at Regina. “Help me hang it up.” There just happened to be an empty third stocking holder on the mantle. “Do you know this is the very first Christmas stocking I’ve ever had?”

Regina thought her heart would break. “Really?” Henry asked in horrified disbelief.

“Yup. And I’m really glad my first one is with you.”

Henry spent the rest of the night regaling Emma with all the things Santa might stuff in her stocking. She smiled and nodded at his enthusiasm, but the only thing she wanted she already had.

Later, Emma strode into the master bedroom to change her once-again, Henry-bath-drenched shirt when her eyes caught a small portrait on Regina’s dresser. A handsome man smiled back, his face taking up the majority of the frame: brown hair, grey eyes, kind, chiseled face. She always knew the photo was there but never stopped and really looked at it. Until now. Was she jealous? Curious? Threatened by a shared past she would never know?

She examined him more closely. Henry had his father’s nose and chin, for sure. Gazing at the picture, she didn’t notice Regina walk up silently behind, until she felt arms thread around her waist.

“You would have liked him,” she murmured wistfully, leaning into Emma’s back.

Regina squeezed tighter. “He was funny and kind, and he loved me. And I loved him.” Emma stared straight ahead, she had no idea what to say, so she said nothing. “I still love him, I always will. But I love you, too, and I know he would be happy for that.”

Regina felt the blonde tense under her tender grip, stock-still, silent. She grabbed Emma’s hand and drew her to the edge of the bed, sitting by her side. “It took me a long time to get to a place where I could admit that Daniel died, but I did. I finally knew that my life would go on and I had to make it one worth living. One that’s happy. And it truly is now. He would have liked you, I know it.”

She chuckled ruefully. “It took months before I could look at a picture of him and not cry. Then another year before I could keep one on display.”

Tears rolled down Emma’s cheeks. Regina chuckled in surprise, astounded by the naked emotion on her lover’s face. “What’s this?”

“I…I’m so sorry.” Emma rubbed tears out of her eyes with the heels of her hands, but more followed suit. Her face was impossibly wide and vulnerable, eyes collapsed at the corners, green swimming in moisture. “I hate that you had to lose him, that you had to suffer so much. That Henry doesn’t have a Dad and you lost your husband.”

Regina smiled adoringly; her throat tightened with emotion by osmosis. She got the sense that if, by some miracle, Daniel returned alive and well, Emma would step aside because she loved Regina more than anything and would want to reunite her with her husband and Henry with his father.

“I spent many, many hours in therapy accepting that I cannot change the past, no matter how unfair. I can only go forward, and I choose to do that.” Regina squeezed their joined hands. “With _you_. I love _you_ , Emma Swan.”

Regina leaned forward and kissed Emma’s eyes, salty moisture stinging her lips. Hands on her shoulders, Regina rubbed Emma’s biceps in reassurance then slapped her own thighs as if to put a period on the end of the discussion. “Got it?”

Emma nodded.

“You OK?”

Another nod.

“Do you need me to kiss you to return your voice?”

A third, more vigorous, nod, followed by a shy grin. Lips met gently, softly, in reassurance and love. Regina stood and pulled Emma onto her feet. “Alright, love. Let’s find our boy. It’s too quiet, that can’t be good.”

Hand in hand, the couple walked out of the bedroom, Daniel’s picture watching as they left.

XXXX

"Fuck you all," Petit noted calmly as he walked by the row of even, red stockings hanging off the dispatch desk, save for the one bulging sock bearing his name that rested on the floor.

Christmas had come to the Storybrooke Police Station. A little tree gamely tried to provide merriment in the lobby. Everyone thought Bell had gone a little overboard with the stockings, but they all enjoyed jamming Petit’s with coal, so much so it had slid to the floor.

"Watch ya damn mouth!" Martha grunted before keying the mic for a call. "It's goddamn Christmas Eve for Christ's sake…10-4 Bravo-1.”

Emma tried not to laugh. She waited for Martha to end the call, then approached with a wrapped present. "Merry Christmas, from all of us."

“Not me,” Petit added darkly. Bell punched him in the shoulder in admonishment. “Ow, damn.” She appraised him curiously, wondering what he was getting at: Petit had pitched in more money than anyone.

Emma handed over the brightly colored package, which Regina gamely wrapped the night before. "C'mon, open it." Bell, Nolan and Leroy gathered. Never a fan of being the center of attention, Martha acquiesced with a grumble and did just that, tearing off the wrapping to reveal…

“Season 11? I didn't know that was out yet!" Lips curled in a half-smile, which to the older woman was akin to beaming for anyone else.

The normally stoic dispatcher’s eyes lit up for one subject and one subject only: NCIS, namely Leroy Jethro Gibbs. She grinned at Gibbs' unwavering stare that graced the cover of the box.

"I don't know why you like watching that show so much, they're not even cops," Petit quipped, knowing he just lit a fuse.

“Special agents _are_ cops!” Martha's lips were set in an exasperated, tight line as she rolled her eyes. Every few months the officers would wait for the right time and drop some fake entertainment news: "You hear Gibbs is leaving the show?" or "Hey, I saw on TV they're canceling NCIS." He changed the “news” just enough every time to send the dispatcher into tizzy, demanding Nolan get on his phone and disprove it.

“Pffft, big deal. He works for the Navy, please.”

"Gibbs is a cop!" Martha fumed. "He's special agent in charge! He's like…" she looked around the room, gaze stopping on Emma. "He's like the Chief here."

Emma held up her hands in mock humility. "Whoa, I can't compare with Gibbs."

"That's true," Martha deadpanned.

Nolan, Bell and Petit hooted. "Yeah, well, glad you like it. Merry Christmas.”

"Ah, Chief, I'm just kidding ya, you'd hold your own with Gibbs." Emma smiled, heart warmed, that was a big compliment considering the source. "It's Ziva you couldn't hold a candle to.”

More laughter from her alleged compatriots. “I’ll remember this all at review time,” she smiled to her colleagues. “Alright, I’m outta here.”

“You got the bike?” Nolan asked.

Emma nodded. “Yup.”

“Take pictures?” Bell added.

“You bet.”

“Merry Christmas, you guys. Have a good one. Nolan?” Emma jerked her head toward the door, he dutifully followed her out. “You sure you’re good?”

“I was second in command of a tank division in Mogadishu. I think I can corral these loons for a week,” he chuckled. “It’s usually pretty quiet this time of year, anyway.”

“OK, good.” Emma clapped him on the bicep. “Thanks. I really appreciate it. Don’t be afraid to taser Petit if you have to.”

Emma heard a deep belly laugh as she slid into the Mustang. “I’m looking forward to it!”

XXXX

When Emma arrived at Mifflin Street, the holiday was well underway. Henry was already in fifth gear, racing around the house following a motorized, insanely loud toy police car he’d just opened from his godmother.

“Cheef! Loooooook!” he practically screamed. “Look what Auntie Kat got me!”

Sirens blared once again. When the car came to a stop, a stern voice boomed out: STOP! THIS IS THE POLICE! PUT YOUR HANDS UP!

Emma looked at her friend, incredulous, who smirked as she sipped egg nog. “I hate you,” Emma remarked calmly, only half joking.

“I hate her more.” Regina emerged from the kitchen bearing a glass in each hand. She was dressed in jeans and a red and white Fair Isle sweater, her makeup light and understated, black hair kissing her shoulders: effortlessly breathtaking.

Kathryn rolled her eyes as she watched Emma stare in open-mouthed, naked adoration. “Close your mouth, Swan.”

Regina walked over to Emma and kissed her softly, but intently, in greeting. “Welcome home,” she breathed, pulling away. “Which do you want?” She held out a glass of wine and a glass of egg nog.

“That nog got booze?”

Kathryn raised her glass in a toast. “I made it, so yes.”

“Give me that,” she requested, eyeing the noisy toy. “I’m going to need it.”

Regina sipped the wine, then glanced at her friend: “I don’t know how you drink that.”

“I don’t know how you don’t. It’s full of booze, sugar and fat, what more do you want in a drink?”

The women moved into the living room, Christmas tree ablaze as Henry scampered off to the hallway with his toy. “Well, at least we’ll always know where he is,” Emma remarked, the brandy in her drink stinging her tongue. Regina sat on the arm of Emma’s chair and gently pulled out her girlfriend’s work bun, finger-combing long, blonde and now loose hair. The act had become one of the favorite parts of Regina’s day, the final unofficial act of welcoming home.

“I know you two want to roll around naked under the tree, so I won’t stay long. Just wanted to give you your gift.” She smiled evilly at Regina.

“I can open it later, let’s just enjoy our drinks,” she stammered.

Emma watched her girlfriend bite her lip, then look down and away, a small blush creeping across her face. “What’s wrong?” Concerned at the sudden change of mood, she rubbed Regina’s arm.

She sighed, exasperated. “I’m sure _that one_ got me something perverted and I don’t want to embarrass you.”

Kathryn laughed into her hand while Emma snorted. “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing she could give you that would embarrass me.”

Eyes widened. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

_Oh shit_. “Nothing, just, I’ve, you know…” Emma rubbed her forehead. “Really, Kathryn, you had to—”

“Hey, I did nothing, alluded to nothing. I’m just trying to give her a gift.” She caught Regina’s eyes. “I swear. It’s nothing you couldn’t open in front of Henry.”

Regina narrowed her eyes and blew out her cheeks. “Alright, hand it over.”

Emma relinquished her chair to Regina and sat on the floor near the tree in an effort to give her privacy if she needed it.

Kathryn clapped her hands in glee. “Two of them.”

“Of course,” Regina muttered, accepting the first package. She opened it to reveal a large black T-shirt that advised: **Feel Safe at Night, Sleep With a Cop**.

Emma laughed and fist-pumped her approval as Regina held it up.

“This is huge,” she noted, confused.

“I figured you’d want to sleep in it. That is, if you two wear anything to bed.”

That was a lesson the couple had learned quickly. As pleasurable as it was to wake up in each other’s warm, naked embrace, it proved unwise given the constant presence of a curious 3-year-old who enjoyed a good middle-of-the-night snuggle with his favorite women.

The first night Emma slept over after their trip to the camp, the women made passionate - and necessarily quiet - love. They quickly drifted off to sleep content, forgetting their location. Hours later, Regina felt a small body wedge itself next to her and giggle through a yawn:

_“Where your clothes, Cheef? You naked!”_

_Regina woke up immediately and rolled over to find Henry gleefully poking a sleeping, bare chested Emma with his finger. He looked at his mother as if it were the funniest sight he’d ever seen._

_“Emma!” Regina gently shook her girlfriend._

_“Hey,” the blonde smiled sleepily, eyes still closed, arm over her forehead. “Need more sleep, honey. Can you wait until morning?” She giggled. “C’mon, stop poking.”_

_“Hi, Cheef!”_

_Green eyes snapped open. “Gah!” She looked down, somehow swallowed an expletive and drew the sheet to her chest._

_“Where your clothes?”_

_“Uh…I forgot them?”_

_“You silly!”_

_“Darling, close your eyes so Emma can go find her clothes, then come back to bed.” Henry jammed his hands over his eyes, screwed shut with enthusiasm. Emma sprinted out of the bed and into the bathroom. She re-emerged in a T-shirt and pajama pants, finding Henry lying in her spot, arms behind his head._

_“You snooze, you lose.”_

_“Henry Mills, where did you learn that?” Regina demanded, trying to bite back a laugh._

_Big, brown eyes smiled back sweetly. “Auntie Kat.”_

Henry picked that moment to run into the room. “What dat say?” he asked, excited.

Regina covered quickly: “I love the police.”

“Me, too!” The boy beamed.

Emma thought her heart would explode. _This kid is going to kill me someday._ “The police loves you, too,” she added softly.

Henry smiled, then ran at the blonde, tackling her in a hug so forceful it sent them to the ground in a giggling tangle. Regina shook her head softly, nearly blushing from the love she felt.

“Alright, #2.” Kathryn passed her a smaller box. Regina pulled off the wrapping, then immediately turned bright red. She bowed her head and silently handed a book to Emma: “The Straight Girl’s Guide to Sleeping With Chicks.”

“You said these were Henry-safe gifts!” Emma scolded.

Holding her hands out in front of her, Kathryn defended: “Well, he can’t _read_.”

A leer took up residence on Emma’s face as she studiously skimmed the pages. “Is this the one I’m in?”

“Emma!”

Kathryn walked by to freshen her drink, high-fiving the blonde on the way. “Good one.” She stopped. “You aren’t, are you?”

XXXX

After Kathryn’s departure, the women conned Henry into a halfway-nutritious dinner by promising him he could open one gift. It was win-win-win for the burgeoning family, as they maneuvered a specific present his way: new pajamas and a book: “Officer Dan’s Day”

“I don’t know who’s more excited about that book,” Emma declared, “him or me.”

Pajamas on, book read and excited boy in bed, the couple snuggled on the couch watching “A Christmas Story” and checking the monitor to gauge when the boy was asleep enough so they could begin their Santa-ing.

“Just so you know, I will never try to talk you into letting him have a BB gun,” Emma informed, rubbing the brunette’s thigh absently. “Those things are insanely dangerous.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“You think he’s asleep?”

Regina checked the monitor: She spied Henry, out cold, his breathing even and low. “Looks it to me. Help me get the presents out of the basement?”

“Yeah, one minute. I gotta grab something out of my car.”

Coatless, Emma ran out the front door into the freezing dark, only to return a few minutes later bearing a wide smile and…

“A bicycle,” Regina observed, sounding less than impressed.

“Yeah, isn’t it great? He really wanted to win one at the Chinese auction. He seemed really bummed he didn’t, so I did a little research online and got this.”

“I hate to burst your bubble, but that bike has no pedals.”

“I know.”

“Shouldn’t it?”

Emma beamed, proud of her work. “No, it’s a balance bike.” Regina titled her head, lips lifted at a corner. “This is how kids are learning how to ride these days.”

Regina eyed the bike warily, it _was_ very cute: thick rubber tires and fire-engine red seat and handle bars. She knew he’d love it at first sight.

“I’ll show you a video. He’ll learn to scoot on this, pushing himself along with his feet. Eventually he’ll be able to push and glide, which means he’s got the balance he needs for a pedal bike.” She eyed the brunette to see if her argument was taking told. “Here, check it out.”

Emma wheeled it over and passed it to Regina, who observed, amazed: “It’s so light.”

“I know, he’ll do fine. I’ll help him every step of the way. Oh, and I got this, too.” She held up a bright red bike helmet. “Safety first.”

Regina wondered who would be more excited with this gift: Emma or Henry. She decided, with a smile, it was a draw.

“He’ll love it.” She turned and captured Emma’s lips for a kiss, her tongue dancing out to entice its partner. “You’re so amazingly sweet.”

Emma’s head dipped a touch, a faint touch of red staining her cheeks. “Only for you two. Don’t tell anyone.” She rolled the bike toward the tree and leaned it against the fireplace for the big reveal in the morning.

“Did it come assembled?”

A throaty chuckle bounced off the living room walls. “Ah, no. Bell, Nolan and I spent the past two days trying to put it together between calls. My office was a mess of parts and directions…in Swedish. It was like a living joke: ‘How many cops does it take to assemble a kid’s bike?’ Petit wanted to shoot it, but we got it done.”

Regina grabbed a hand and pulled her toward the hallway. “You did a fine job. Now, c’mon Santa, we have a lot more to do.”

XXXX

Christmas morning was exactly as it should be for a household with a preschooler: loud, chaotic and fun, interspersed with occasional meltdowns.

Henry indeed loved his bike, so much so he refused to take off his helmet for the majority of the day. Emma spent most of the morning spotting him as he tried to scoot around the foyer and up and down the hallway.

The boy fell victim to his 5 a.m. wakeup and vigorous biking in the early afternoon, which gave Regina and Emma a couple of hours to cuddle on the couch and relive their favorite parts of the day. And kiss. There was a lot of kissing.

“Gee, Miss Mills, you sure like kissing girls.”

Seated on Emma’s lap, Regina pulled away, giggling at Emma’s faux innocent tone. “Just one.”

“I know we agreed not to get each other anything,” Emma began squinting, “but I couldn’t resist.” She didn’t expect the chuckle that followed.

“I couldn’t resist, either.”

The women retreated to their secret present hiding spots and met again on the floor in front of the tree, Regina sitting in the V between Emma’s legs. “You first,” she insisted, handing the blonde a small box, her heart beating a mile a minute.

Reaching around Regina’s waist, Emma opened it in front of her, lifting the hinged lid to reveal a shining silver circle on a chain. “It’s an infinity loop,” Regina breathed, all the air leaving her lungs at once. “I saw it and I thought of you immediately. I know you don’t tend to wear jewelry but I —”

“I…it’s beautiful.” She lifted it out of the box and handed it to Regina. “Put it on?”

Emma held up her hair while Regina turned around and leaned in, unable to resist a quick kiss as she fastened the clasp behind her neck. It fell to her mid chest, gleaming. Emma held the loop in her hand, fingering the smooth metal. She leaned her forehead against Regina’s, unable to take her eyes off the necklace. “I love it,” she smiled. “I love you. Thank you.” Her hand rose to stroke an olive cheek. “Now you.”

Emma handed over the package, which was soon opened by Regina to reveal a Scotch-plaid flannel shirt. “You’re from Maine and you’re in a relationship with a woman. It’s time you looked the part,” she laughed.

Regina slowly, cautiously lifted the shirt out of the box and nearly missed the smaller box that had been hidden in the folded garment. “Oh,” Emma winked. “And this, too.”

Long, slightly shaking fingers unwrapped it to find a thin, black leather necklace bearing a small, smooth white rock, intricately wrapped in decorative silver wiring.

Regina gasped, mouth wide open. “This is the rock Henry found me that day at the beach.” Emma nodded with a smile, remembering the day they confessed their feelings for one another. “How did you…”

“I had to, um, appropriate it off your dresser. I was paranoid you’d notice. I took it to Erickson’s. His wife Mandy is super talented, she does all sorts of custom work. I hope it’s OK, I—”

Regina lunged forward, straddling Emma’s lap and threading one hand into thick, blonde hair, the other clutching her latest treasure. Throat tight, she couldn’t speak, so she let her lips express her gratitude and love. It was a rather long conversation.

XXXX

It was Boxing Day, a holiday that in America seems to revolve around returning gifts and/or staying in one’s pajamas all day. The unofficial Swan-Mills family enjoyed the latter. Much to Emma’s enjoyment, Regina spent the day breaking in her new flannel shirt. Emma could only stop and stare: whether full makeup and little black dress, no makeup and flannel shirt and yoga pants, or somewhere in between, Regina Mills was the most beautiful person Emma had ever seen. She couldn’t get over how Regina seemed to pull off endless looks flawlessly – sultry and wanton one minute, young and innocent the next.

“What?” the brunette asked with a grin, catching Emma staring.

“I just…” She scanned her brain but couldn’t find the right words. “You’re as beautiful inside as you are out.”

After a full day of glorious relaxation, the following day the trio was packed and ready to head south for their first road trip adventure.

“Hey, I’m gonna move Hen’s car seat into my car, be right back.”

“Wait,” Regina replied, hands fingering the bottom of her sweater.

“Are you OK?” Suddenly realizing her girlfriend’s state, Emma crossed the floor and took Regina’s hands in her own. “What’s wrong?” It was an innocent question, why was Regina so flustered? The brunette’s eyes seemed to have grown three sizes and looked incredibly vulnerable for a talk about car seats.

“Um…I bought another one because he’s in and out of your car quite a bit and I thought it would be easier than having you swap the seat out of mine all the time.”

Emma smiled, “That’s a great idea. So what’s all this?” She reached up and cradled one side of Regina’s face with her hand, stroking her cheek with her thumb.

“It’s just…it seemed like a good idea and then when it arrived, I realized how it might look to you.”

“It looks like it’s going to save me a lot of hassle,” she smiled. “Why would that be a problem?” Regina tried to look away, but Emma kept her hand anchoring her head in place. “Sweetheart, what?”

“I was concerned it might look like I was forcing you into some sort of commitment.”

“With a car seat?” Emma laughed, relieved it was nothing more serious, and pulled the petite woman in for a tight hug. “Honey, I want to be committed to you. I feel committed to you. I am committed to you. You’re not rushing anything.” Still in Emma’s strong arms, Regina pulled back and smiled. “You want to be committed to me, right?”

Regina nodded. “Absolutely.”

“OK, then. I think you ought to do this right.” Emma motioned to the floor, Regina grinned when she got the hint and decided to play along, dropping to one knee.

“Emma Swan, would you accept this car seat?” Regina looked up, beaming.

_Jesus Christ, I love this woman so much._ “Yes,” she smiled, pulling Regina to her feet and taking her lips in a thorough kiss.

“ _More_ kissing?” Henry squeaked as he scooted into the room on his bike.

The women broke, still in each other’s arms. “You got a problem with that kid?”

“Yeah!” he teased.

Emma unwound herself from Regina and slowly walked toward Henry, who hopped off the bike and, giggling, began walking backward at the same pace. “That’s because you want kisses, too.”

“No!”

“Too bad, I’ve been saving them up for you!” Emma lunged for the child, who ran out screaming, blonde hair trailing, screaming like a banshee.

XXXX

The Mustang had just crossed into Revere, Mass., when Emma heard a siren. Sure enough, blue and red lights flashed in her rearview, the cruiser directly on her tail. Looking closer she spotted… _Oh, no fucking way._ She flicked her blinker and pulled over.

“Were you speeding?” Regina asked, concerned. She checked the back seat. Somehow Henry remained asleep.

“No.”

“Then why are we pulled over?”

Emma shook her head. “You’ll see.” As she rolled down the window, a hulking mass approached. The only thing she could spy through the driver’s window was a duty belt.

“License and registration,” the deep voice commanded.

“Seriously?”

“ _I said_ , license and registration, _ma’am_. Hands where I can see them.”

Regina looked on, concerned. _Why was Emma being difficult?_

Slowly pulling her wallet out of the center console, Emma flopped it open. Her license occupied one side, her shield the other.

“Are you law enforcement, ma’am?”

_I can’t believe him._ “Yes, I am the chief of police of Storybrooke, Maine,” she deadpanned.

“They have police up there? I thought it was just bears and pine trees and fine-lookin’ women.”

Regina was about to ask what the hell was going on when the trooper crouched down, a wide smiling face filling the window. “Hey, baby,” the baritone grinned. “Welcome back.” He leaned through the window, kissing Emma’s cheek and hugging her as best he could through the tight space.

“Wait, you’re…” Regina finally recognized him.

Robert let go of Emma and got his first in-person look at Regina Mills. “Holy…” he muffled the “shit” with this fist. “Mayor Mightyfine? Oh, my God, Swan. You are so damn blessed.” He shook his head and extended his hand across Emma. “Pardon me, ma’am. I’m Robert Preacher, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Hello,” Regina smiled. The man was instantly, utterly charming, she could already tell why he and Emma were so close.

“I just wanted to welcome you back personally to the great Commonwealth of Massachusetts. I told Smitty to let me know when the ugliest car he ever saw made it back into town.” He looked in the back seat. “An ugly vehicle that now has a car seat and a child?” A bark of a laugh punctuated the statement. “I thought I would never see the day.”

“Are you quite done?” Emma inquired with a smile.

“ _For now_. We meeting for breakfast tomorrow morning?”

“You got it. Be safe.”

The sounds of cars tearing down Route 1 and the slap of cold air braced her face as she leaned out the window to hear his reply. “Always, baby,” he chuckled low over his shoulder. “Always.”

**TBC**


	14. Chapter 14

Henry was alternating between using the hotel bed as a trampoline and rushing to the window to view the bustle of Boston below when Emma’s phone rang:

_Bad boys, bad boys_

_What’cha gonna do, what’cha gonna do when they come for you?_

Emma smirked at the lazy reggae beat. Being around Henry so much, she had little choice but to move on from N.W.A., just in case.

“Yo.”

“I’m in the lobby. Get your fine form and ’yo family down here stat. All these white people are lookin’ at me funny.”

“You wish. Be right there.”

Hanging up, she popped into the bathroom, where Regina was securing the backing on an earring.

“Robert’s in the lobby. Time to go.”

Regina cocked her head at her girlfriend, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet and biting her lip. “You’re nervous,” she smiled.

“What? No.” The tone was a little too defensive to sell.

“Why?” Warm hands grabbed Emma’s, putting a stop to fingers fidgeting with the bottom of her parka.

“I…” She blew out a breath. “He’s my best friend. I love him. I love you. And I want this to go well. Plus, I’ve never…”

Regina waited, then raised an eyebrow when the explanation stalled further.

“I’ve never introduced him to someone I’ve loved before.” She looked away, then met Regina’s gaze, eyes wide and brimming with vulnerability. “Because I’ve never had anyone who, you know, fit that category.”

The brunette’s heart swelled as she registered the round-about compliment. She squeezed Emma’s hands and leaned in to peck her on the cheek. “Then we best not keep him waiting.”

The trio soon exited from the elevator bank and strode into the main lobby, which was resplendent with Christmas lights, garland, red bows and a very tall man with a very wide smile.

“Hey, baby,” he smiled, splaying his thick arms wide and engulfing Emma in a hug so tight his black leather jacket squeaked.

“You shaved!” she declared, pointing to his now shining dome.

“Yeah, wasn’t much there, anyway, so I figured I’d go for the full Taye Diggs.”

Emma snorted. “Taye Diggs plus 50 pounds.”

“ _Of muscle._ Fifty pounds _of muscle_ , thank you very much.”

Robert shook his head and dropped his eyes to Regina – a steep drop given he was over a foot taller.

“Nice to meet you again…” Offering his hand, faltering, searching for the correct greeting. “Your Mayorness?”

“It’s Madam Mayor,” Emma supplied.

“Actually, it’s Regina,” she smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The brunette felt her palm swallowed by a large hand. “Or Mayor Mightyfine,” she teased, “whatever you like.”

He dipped his head and chuckled. “The pleasure is all mine, Regina, and I apologize for that. I hope I didn’t offend. It’s the name I bestowed upon you when talking to Swan because, well…damn, it’s true. I don’t know why you’re makin’ time with that one.” He nodded at Emma. “You could do much better.”

“Hey!”

Robert compressed his 6’4” frame into a squat as he crouched to greet Henry. _They must teach that at the academy_ , Regina mused. “I’m Robert. What’s your name, little man?”

The boy gaped, amazed, he had never seen such a large, towering adult in his life.

“You’re brown!”

“Henry!” Regina chided, beyond embarrassed.

Robert and Emma roared. “Don’t sweat it, Mama,” he smiled. “He speaks the truth. Gimme a high-five, bud.”

Instantly enamored, Henry smacked his tiny palm against Robert’s.

“That’s possibly the least offensive thing he’s ever been called.”

Robert stood and smiled at the women. “I take it you’re lacking in an urban community in your little hamlet?”

“You could say that,” Emma snickered, then dropped her voice to a whisper. “But we’ve got the lesbians covered.” Robert unleashed a loud, deep laugh. “That you do, girl. That you do. Alright, I’m starvin’. Where we going?”

The group walked through the lobby and out the door onto the sidewalk as Emma directed, “Thornton’s.”

“Good choice.”

Emma and Henry held hands as the boy, unable to contain his excitement, began to run ahead pulling Emma with him along the snow-lined sidewalk. That left Regina and Robert together.

“Emma’s family to me,” he began.

“Is this where you tell me not to hurt your girl?” Regina warmed at his intent, tightening the scarf around her neck as the wind whipped down Huntington Avenue.

“Absolutely.” He offered her a muscular arm and Regina took it. She smiled, unable to remember the last time she leisurely strolled on a gentleman’s arm. “I’ve never had to give this speech before because I’ve never seen her like this. I wish you could have known her before… Actually, I don’t. You wouldn’t have liked it.”

Robert reflected on his statement, thinking back a little over a year earlier. He’d never forget the night his phone blasted Emma’s “I Kissed A Girl” ringtone unexpectedly in the middle of his shift.

_“Wazzup, woman?”_

_“Hey, this is Babs down at Merch.” Robert frowned at the voice, which didn’t match Emma’s caller ID._

_“Yeah, hey, what’s up?”_

_“Sorry to bother you, but Emma is in a bad way. I swiped her phone and I recognized your face in her contacts.” Robert nodded to himself and squinted, straining to hear the woman’s voice over the bar din and the thump of music. Emma had taken him in for a drink a few times after work._

_“Nice pic, by the way. Anyway, she’s drunk, got pissed when I refused to serve her and tried to leave. I sent two of the regulars to drag her to dance and distract her while I called you. Now they’re practically having a three-way on the dance floor.”_

_Frowning, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he swung his cruiser south toward the city. This wasn’t good. Not only was Emma not a dancer, she wasn’t into PDA. She must be shit hammered if she’s doing both._

_“You guys are on Columbia, right?”_

_“Yup. 276.”_

_“OK, hold tight. I’m 10 minutes away, try to keep her from doing anything she’d regret.”_

_Babs chuckled derisively. “Uh, you ever try to tell her to do something? I’m not setting a hand near them, I could lose it.”_

Robert shook his head, as if to physically exorcise the memory from his brain. Reliving the night when he had to physically drag angry, drunk, horny Emma off two equally aroused lesbians and out of a bar was not a pleasant memory.

“She was quieter. Sad. Definitely lonely. I’ve always pulled her into my life as much as possible but I could feel her holding back. It’s like she couldn’t allow herself to be fully happy, all-in, you know?”

Regina nodded. “I understand.”

“But I look at her now…” he trailed off, gesturing at the blonde, who was alternately holding the boy in her arms, putting him down, then chasing him down the sidewalk only to scoop him up again.

“She loves Henry so much and he loves her.”

“And _you_. I’ve only just met you, but I can tell you wouldn’t allow that” - he pointed to the giggling duo dead ahead – “if you weren’t serious about her.”

“I wouldn’t and I am. Completely. Why do you think she was like that?”

“Some of it was the job, she was in some nasty situations. It takes a toll. The bombing didn’t help. But I think some of it was being on her own as a kid.” He paused, then exhaled slowly, white breath pluming out in a rush. “I feel like I can trust you, Regina.” He stared at her pointedly. “Can I trust you?”

The brunette felt the sudden urge to shrink under his serious look. _I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side._ “You can, of course.”

“Don’t ever repeat this to her – ever. But when she was getting really gloomy last year, drinking a little too much, screwing around a little too much...” Regina’s eyes widened. “…I checked her DCF file.” He met the confused look with an explanation: “Her file from when she was foster kid.”

“Aren’t those confidential?”

Lips curled in a sly grin. “Anyway, she had a shit upbringing. Bounced from home to home, none of it her fault, she wasn’t a bad kid. Families had too many kids, they needed specific families for specific aged kids, etc. Ended up in a group home and I can tell you, those suck.”

“She’s told me a little about it, I don’t push.”

“That’s wise, let her tell you in her own time. If you tell her I told you any of this, I will plant weed in your office and call the staties.”

Regina snorted. “Very funny.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I ain’t kidding.”

XXXX

Breakfast was a noisy affair, full of food, laughs and talking. Henry situated himself between Emma and Robert, awed by his new friend. The man creatively regaled the table with G-rated versions of some of their R-rated misadventures. Emma pretended to be offended, but Regina could tell she loved the attention and affection from her dearest friend. Regina found Robert incredibly winsome and lovable - all bright smile and kind eyes - immediately understanding how the two were so close.

After Robert settled the check under the guise of hitting the bathroom, he returned, clapped his hands and reached for his coat. “Where we going next?”

“Where’s the check?”

“Paid for. Where to?”

“No, no, no.”

“Too late. I win. Henry, make Emma tell me where we’re going.”

The boy cocked his head. “He means Chief, dear,” Regina explained.

“Cheef, tell Robert where we going!” he squeaked.

“You make him call you Chief? Are you power hungry or what?”

“ _He_ decided to call me _Chief_ ,” Emma explained pointedly.

“Alright, alright, chill. Chief.” His baritone dropped to a whisper as he leaned in while Regina helped Henry get his coat on. “When’s he gonna start calling you Mommy?”

Emma punched the giant on the bicep with a huff. “Henry, help! Chief hit me!”

The boy wheeled around from his mother’s grasp. “Cheef! No hit!” he reprimanded seriously.

“I’m sorry, Hen.” She fought to maintain a penitent look. “You’re right.”

Robert stepped forward dramatically rubbing his “sore” arm. “Want a ride, little dude?” he asked, looking to Regina for approval. She nodded, which led to the towering man swooping the boy up onto broad shoulders and holding his hands for balance.

“Whoa!” Henry squealed as they ducked under the diner doorway. Once out, he turned and winked at Regina, then stuck his tongue out at Emma.

XXXX

“I approve, by the way.” Robert’s voice was low, yet rich, among the ruckus of the Boston Children’s Museum.

“Of what?” Emma kept her eyes trained on Henry, who was scampering up, down and around the enclosed three-story climbing structure in the glass-walled lobby. Regina stood at the bottom, lips set in a thin line, all but wringing her hands, teetering precariously on the border between supportive parent and completely freaked-out mother.

“That.” A strong chin jutted toward the rope-and-platform attraction. “Your new family.”

“They’re not my family,” she noted. “ _Officially_.”

A loud snort erupted above her shoulder. “Yeah, right. You go with that.” He inched closer and leaned in. “I didn’t see you step in front of them every time we were about to cross a street today. Nor did I see you cut his food at lunch or take him to the bathroom when Mightyfine was grabbing our coats. Musta been someone else with crazy-ass hair who held his hand on the T and kissed his head when we got here. And you are absolutely not dying to stand next to your woman right now and hold her hand while that little guy bombs up and down that thing and she tries to look like she’s not about to stroke out. She failing, by the way.” Lips curled to the heavens in satisfaction. “Nuh uh, I must need glasses.”

“You done?”

“Hell, no, I’m just getting started. You can’t even take your eyes off him to send me a fuck-off glare or something. What is this ‘not my family officially’ shit?” Robert tapped her on the shoulder and forced her to meet his eyes. “That boy looks at you like he looks at his mother. And, hell,” he whistled low and slow. “Mightyfine? Damn. She eyes you like you’re the greatest person to walk this earth which, for the record, you are not. What is your damage?”

Emma remained silent.

“The correct answer, by the way, was ‘Thank you, Robert. I am very happy.’”

“I _am_ very happy.”

“Then what was that bullshit qualified answer?”

Emma exhaled, trying to arrange her very complicated feelings into the right words. “I love them. Both. More than anyone in my entire life.”

“I’m going to try and not be offended by that statement.”

“Shut up,” she smirked, whacking him lightly across the abs. “I love them like I have never loved anyone or anything - ever. And that scares me - that I could screw it up somehow and lose them.” Landing her hands on her hips, she blew out a harsh breath. “I didn’t have parents. I didn’t have a, like, you know, childhood.” Long fingers raked through thick, blonde hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It looks like you’re doin’ just fine to me.” Emma shook her head in response. “ _You are._ Look…” He nodded over at Regina, all fine lines and perfect posture. “Does she look like she settles for anything less than amazing? And for _her son_ , of all people?”

Pale lips moved, but no sound ushered forth. Fingers unconsciously stroked the silver circle hanging from her neck.

“’Scuse me?” he asked innocently. “I didn’t catch that.”

“ _I said_ , no.”

A large, muscular arm swung lazily onto her shoulders. “I know dick about kids, but even I know there’s no manual. It’s all trial and error. So, yeah, you’re probably gonna make some mistakes, but so what? He loves you. She loves you. And you love them. Whether you like it or not, you’re a mother to that kid. Like, right now.”

The arm tightened around her shoulders in an affectionate squeeze as Emma dipped her head in agreement. “Lighten the fuck up, will you? Enjoy them. Enjoy your life. Stop being such a pussy, Jesus H.”

A wry grin crossed a fair face. “Mama P would shove a bar of Ivory in your mouth if she heard such filth.”

“Yeah, well, what she don’t know, won’t hurt me.”

“Speaking of her, what’s she think of the…” Emma trailed off, gesturing to her friend’s smooth pate.

He chuckled. “She’s more upset I broke up with Emily.”

“You what?” Emma gaped, swatting him on the arm. “What the hell, man? I liked her.” She recalled meeting the pleasant lawyer at a Fourth of July cookout a few weeks before she left for Storybrooke. “You shut it down before Christmas? That is cold. You guys were together, what…”

“Six months. Listen, we split after Thanksgiving. We’re in different places.”

Emma chuckled. “Wow, that is some Oprah bullshit right there.”

“Hey, fuck off, Gayle,” he smiled. “She doesn’t want to settle down, and she said if she did, she’s not sure she wants kids.”

“I’m going to pretend I don’t know that you knew Oprah’s best friend’s name right off the bat…” she snorted.

“I’m getting old as death. I want to settle down and have kids.” He stopped and pursed his lips. “I want that,” he declared, gesturing toward Henry, whose sneaker was apparently stuck in the ropes. The boy smiled and waved gleefully from 25 feet above. They watched as he tried to free himself to no avail.

“You sure?” she laughed. The pair sauntered toward Regina, figuring one of them was going to have to make the trek up and help extricate the boy; the brunette’s high-heeled leather boots didn’t stand a chance on the ropes.

“Well, it looks damn good on you.”

Emma winked at Regina and smiled. Then reached up as far as she could, and hosting one foot on the first rung, began her ascent. “Thank you, Robert. I am very happy.”

XXXX

After a full day of excitement, stimulation and walking around the biggest city he’d ever seen - an admittedly short list - Henry D. Mills was pooped. Or, to be more exact, passed out on the hotel room’s line king-sized bed at the grand hour of 6 p.m.

“He’s going to be up crazy early, isn’t he?” Emma asked warily as she eyed the child, dead to the world, fingers jammed in his mouth.

“Oh, yes.” Regina’s chuckle floated in from the main room of the suite. “Don’t worry, you can sleep in. I’ll bring him down to the pool.”

Joining her girlfriend, Emma strode up behind the brunette and wound her arms around a trim waist and began kissing a warm neck. “When are you going to bring _me_ down to the pool?” she purred. “Huh?” Lips laved Regina’s secret ticklish spot just south of an earlobe.

“Not any time soon,” she giggled. “I doubt your self control. I’m sure you’d try to molest me in the pool.”

“You can’t molest the willing.”

“Mmmmm,” she hummed. “You’re very astute.” Regina reluctantly turned in Emma’s arms and took her hands. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you order room service? We can eat out here, he can sleep in there. And, if you’re good, maybe we could take a bath…”

Emma chuckled low and dirty. “I booked this room for that very tub, I will have you know. I actually asked the agent, ‘How large is the tub?’ I’m sure I was flagged as a perv or something.”

“Well,” Regina began benignly, a thick undercurrent of sex running through her words, “I will make it worth your while.”

Lying in bed later that night - a 35-pound dead weight wedged between them - Emma reflected that Regina did just that. Following room service, they luxuriated in each other and the jet-filled tub, Emma reclined in Regina’s warm, wet embrace.

“Hey, Robert texted me, asked if we wanted to go to his mom’s for dinner tomorrow night. Said he didn’t want to put you on the spot in person.”

“What’s his mother like?”

“Mama P? She’s awesome.” Emma couldn’t help the involuntary smile that broke across her face at the thought of the woman. “She’s a preschool teacher, has been for, like, 30 years. Warm, funny, but no-nonsense. She kept me in line when I needed it.”

Regina grinned at the enthusiasm radiating off her girlfriend. “She sounds lovely.”

“She is. She and Dr. P live in Concord, about a half-hour from here. But if you’d rather do something else, it’s OK.”

“No, I would like that. She’s important to you, I want to meet her.”

Pillowed on Regina’s chest, Emma turned her head and kissed a collarbone, water gently shifting around them.

“I really do like him,” Regina reported, soapy hands sliding over Emma’s firm, deliciously slick thighs.

“If you’re going to grope me - and keep on doing that - can we not talk about Robert? It’s a buzz kill. But I’m so glad you do. He thinks you’re amazing.” She turned her head to the other side, kissing any flesh she could find. “He thinks Hen’s great, too.”

“They certainly hit it off. I almost died when he called Robert ‘brown.’”

“Well, he is.”

“I know, but…”

“He did great today, I was proud of him. That was a lot of walking and he didn’t complain once.”

Regina snorted. “His feet barely touched the ground, you and Robert were practically fighting over who got to give him piggyback rides.”

“Yeah, well, it’s new to us, maybe we found it fun.”

She tittered. “Talk to me in a few years, see how novel it is then.”

“I’ll be doing more than just talking to you then,” Emma promised. She instantly envisioned their home, fingers sporting gold bands. _Maybe a…_

“Care to explain?”

Emma could hear the challenging smirk behind her head. _Too soon._ Emboldened, the blonde turned to straddle slippery hips, water sluicing off her torso as a hand wandered south alongside a lascivious promise. “I’d rather show you.”

XXXX

Regina Mills was a reserved person, one who did not easily slide into new social situations. Often mistaken for aloof, anyone who looked a little further would realize the quiet brunette with the cool stare was actually quite shy. Which is why it was such a surprise how quickly and casually Regina fit in and felt at home at the Preacher residence.

Margaret Preacher was warm, welcoming and beautiful, all sparkling eyes and wide, white smile, tall, trim and striking.

“Emma, baby!” she hollered when the trio walked through the front door. Regina’s chest tightened at the unabashed joy on the blonde’s face as she was crushed in a hug. The older woman pulled back and held Emma’s face in her hands. “Maine agrees with you,” she assessed with a grin. Shifting her eyes to the right, she spied Regina and Henry, who was holding on to a black pant leg. “And I can see why.”

Stepping forward, she extended her hand, “Margaret Preacher. Have I heard a lot about you!”

“Mama, let ’em through the door at least,” Robert pled.

“I can’t help that am I excited to see my girl and her friends, young man.” She grimaced. “But he is right. Come on in.” While Robert took coats, Margaret grasped Regina’s hand started again: “It’s nice to meet you.”

Normally, the brunette would shrink at such enthusiastic attention from a stranger, but nothing but friendliness and sincerity rolled off the older woman, putting her immediately at ease. “It’s my pleasure. This is my son, Henry.”

The teacher crouched low and smiled up at Henry, who grinned back. “Hey, there. Give me five.” Hands smacked, she stood. Regina smirked to herself. _That’s where he got it._ “Do you think you could play with some toys for me? I’ve got this stuff for my kids at school and I’m not sure they work. You look like a guy who could figure them out.”

Henry beamed and took her hand as she led him to a pile of trucks and cars that no doubt had been deposited in the living room just for him. “Cheef, look!”

Preachers mother and son exchanged a glance as Emma shot them a warning: _Don’t even start._ “Wow, Hen. Looks great.” She turned to her hostess: “Where’s Doctor P?”

“At a,” Margaret curled long fingers in air quotes, “ _dental conference._ In Miami. Pfft.” She shook her head. “He brought his clubs, I know what he’s up to and it ain’t anything to do with teeth.” She waved an arm toward the homey living room. “Sit, sit,” she urged.

After drinks, snacks and small talk, Emma and Robert shared a conspiratorial look…at the TV stand, under which sat an old Sega.

“You game?” he rumbled.

“You askin’?”

The two friends grinned like idiots as he connected controllers and turned on NHL 96. Fascinated by the now-crude graphics and music, Henry ambled over, entranced.

“What dis?”

“Hockey. Sit next to me little dude and watch me whup your Chief in this game. I’m warning you…” his voice dropped impossibly low, “it’s gonna get ugly.”

Henry giggled as Emma pretended to yawn. “You gonna talk all day or actually play?”

Margaret patted Regina on the leg with a chuckle and stood. “Help me in the kitchen? I don’t think you want to see her like this.”

Regina grinned and rose, grabbing her drink off the coffee table. “I’d love to.” She walked into the kitchen and grabbed an offered apron, securing it around her waist. Margaret pulled a giant ham out of the oven and placed it on the counter to baste.

“Honey, check those spuds on the stove. Are they done?”

Regina did as requested, surprised that she felt herself smile at a term of endearment she’d normally loathe from a near-stranger. “Yes.”

“Then it’s time to get some aggression out. You game?” Margaret cocked her head toward a potato masher and an electric hand mixer.

“Sure.”

As Regina worked on the mashed potatoes, Margaret peeled and sliced carrots, asking her guest about her life in Maine - and Emma’s work. Interspersed with the conversations were hoots and hollers from the other rooms - taunts, jeers and something about Henry suddenly switching allegiance to his new, giant idol. The older woman watched intently as brown eyes sparkled, recalling the impact Emma had made on the town in such a short time. _And her, no doubt._

“You love her.” Margaret meant to phrase the words as a question but her inflection betrayed her intention.

“I do. More than I thought I ever could, ever would, again.” Regina stared straight into the mashed potatoes, adding butter and cream.

“Robert tells me you lost your husband.”

“I did.” She paused. “He was murdered.”

Margaret tsked and shook her head. “Tell me about him.”

So she did. Were Regina watching herself, she wouldn’t believe it. Intensely private, she would ordinarily never bring up her husband’s name, nor his tragic death, not to mention any details of her life with him. Yet Margaret’s smooth voice, kind sincerity and interest was like a salve on her heart, and she found herself sharing aspects of her life with her husband she had never shared with Emma - or even thought to.

“Emma is a good woman…” the older woman began, only to be interrupted by the subject in question merrily shouting “IN YOUR FACE!” in the other room. They laughed, and Margaret began again. “She’s not your husband, but she will make you happy. She will go to the ends of the earth for you and that adorable boy.”

Regina smiled to herself. “I know. There was only one Daniel.”

“How many hours did you have to sit on a couch to get that?” she asked with wry understanding.

“A lot.” She smirked. _I can’t believe I’m telling her this._ “I don’t expect her to be him. I want Emma. I love _Emma_.” The words fell from her lips effortlessly, naturally, a simple declarative statement of fact.

“I can tell, baby. I can tell.” Margaret patted Regina’s shoulder as she walked past. “And I can also tell you don’t go around announcing that to the world, either.”

Brown eyes narrowed playfully. “Are you sure you’re not a cop?”

“Two in my family is enough, thank you.” Regina squinted at the figure, _Robert is an only child._ Two? Then realized the answer. _Ah._

“Emma is not as strong as she looks, she needs more reassurance than you may think.”

A brunette head nodded seriously, electric hand mixer whirring.

“This is all new to her. And for someone so accomplished she has ridiculously low self-esteem. Sometimes when she gets scared about her abilities - and she won’t _say_ scared but that’s exactly what it is - she may withdraw or lay low for a bit. She didn’t have parents to build her up as a child, like we do with our sons.”

Regina’s throat was suddenly tight, she tried to swallow, it was hard.

“I’m not telling you this to scare you, I just want to let you know how she - sometimes - reacts to things that she thinks are beyond her ability.” Margaret paused and stared into Regina’s eyes. “Or things she thinks she doesn’t deserve.”

“No, that’s…I appreciate it.” Potatoes sufficiently fluffy, Regina turned off the mixer, ejected the blades and began rinsing them in the sink.

“She had a very, very difficult childhood.”

“I know a little.”

“That’s fine, honey. This is isn’t a test,” Margaret smiled. “I’ve never told this to anyone. She’s never brought anyone to meet me. I’ve known her since she was 22 and I think the longest I’d gone without seeing her was two weeks. And it’s _not_ like she was livin’ like a nun.”

Margaret pulled the sizzling ham out of the oven and with a nod, proclaimed it done. “I want this for her. I want it for you. And I want it for your boy, who looks at her like Robert’s gonna be looking at this ham.”

Regina dipped her head, awash in information and emotion. The older woman approached and hugged her tightly; Regina melted into the embrace gratefully, surprised at how easily she surrendered to the older woman’s care and concern. “Everyone deserves happiness, baby. _Everyone_.”

XXXX

“Henry, you’re a good boy,” Margaret announced after dinner. The group sat in the living room as the Christmas tree twinkled and sparkled. “Since Robert is never going to make me a grandmother, I’m glad Emma came through. I always liked her better, anyway.”

Robert whooped at his mother’s cheek, a mix of fake offense and uproarious laughter, and slapped his leg in approval. Regina watched Emma - midsip - cough in surprise, green eyes blown wide by the woman’s presumption. The brunette winked at her girlfriend and rubbed her back as she cleared her throat.

“Jeez, Mama…” Emma sputtered, trying to regain her breathing. “A little warning next time.”

“I’m not getting any younger and my son is not helping me out in that regard,” she maintained seriously, shooting a dirty look across the room. “You ladies are making an old woman happy, thank you.” She smiled kindly.

“You’re welcome…Mama,” Regina answered softly, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.

“What went on in that kitchen?” Emma laughed. She pulled Regina in by the shoulders and pecked her cheek. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you two alone!”

Robert laughed as Regina swatted Emma playfully. “Yeah, you show her who’s boss, girl.”

“And on that note…” Emma gestured to Henry, who was fighting yawns on the couch, slumped into Robert’s beefy arm. “I think we oughta hit the road.”

As everyone stood to conclude the evening, Margaret finagled another 15 minutes for pictures - various combinations of people in front of the Christmas tree - including a hysterical 5 minutes in which they repeatedly tried and failed to get the self-timer to work so everyone could be in one picture together. It was worth it, after a string of pictures of Emma sprinting toward the group, the effort ultimately produced one in which the blonde finally beat the timer and everyone smiled triumphant.

Emma even finagled an update to Robert’s contact picture on her phone: “I need one of your shiny head.” She handed the phone to Margaret and leaned in to kiss the smirking man on the cheek, only to find out she had company - a certain brunette kissing the other. The result was a beaming Robert being bussed on both cheeks simultaneously.

“Mightyfine, you minx,” he howled. “Send me that, Swan. That’s gonna be my new Profile pic.”

There was hugging, kissing, planning and promises as everyone stood in the doorway and made their farewells.

Regina pulled out of Margaret’s firm embrace with a smile: “Please come up and visit us this spring.”

“Her passport is expired,” Robert noted with a deep chuckle.

“It’s not that far, you jerk.” Emma landed a stuff punch to his arm.

“Ow!”

“Cheef, no hit!”

“I would love to. I’ll drag that one, too,” she smirked, jerking her head up.

“Yeah, yeah, alright. But you gotta find me some lovely lady to woo. No one down here has matched my exacting standards.”

Margaret shook her head. “Oh, good Lord.” Releasing Regina, who went on to get crushed by Robert, Margaret gathered Emma in her arms and whispered in her ear: “You. Deserve. This.” She felt the blonde nod in agreement. “You hear me?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Good. Now, y’all get outta here before I cry.”

“I’m not buying that fake Southern bit, lady,” Emma called over her shoulder, one hand in Henry’s as he walked in between the women. “You’re from Everett!”

Later that night, the trio lay in the thankfully large hotel bed, Henry again unconscious in the middle. Regina ran an arm up and across his pillow so her fingers could play with Emma’s hair.

“They didn’t scare you, did they?” The voice faltered a bit. Emma didn’t ask what went on in the kitchen and Regina didn’t offer.

“Quite the contrary. I may love them more than you.”

A snort sounded in the darkness. “And that, right there, is too much exposure to the Preachers. What have I done?”

Regina exhaled slowly, it flittered like a soft breeze in the dark. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt as home, as quickly as I did in that house.”

“They really loved you. That’s no mean feat.”

Regina found Emma’s hand in the dark, kissing her knuckles, then moving it against her cheek. “I love you so much, Emma. Sometimes it scares me.”

“Why?”

“Because I know what it’s like to lose someone you love, and it nearly killed me. I couldn’t survive that again.”

Emma ran a thumb across a fine cheekbone. “It scares me, too. Like, I don’t know what I’m doing. Like I’ll screw it all up and lose you. I couldn’t survive that.”

She felt Regina turn onto her side and press a gently kiss to the palm of her hand. “You could never screw it up.” The colloquialism sounded so odd in the woman’s mouth. “We’ll just figure it out…together.”

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I started an account on twitter – lftsidecouch – if you want to find me there. Also, if you have any ideas for prompts, scenes or situations you’d like to see the Swan-Mills family in, let me know here, on tumblr or twitter. I’m always looking for more inspiration and you guys are a creative lot. Some of you have sent ideas or made observations that have made it in this story, stuff I never would have thought up. So, thank you. And to answer questions, yes, we’re moving into the crime plot of this crime-romance drama very soon.


	15. Chapter 15

It was February in Maine, which meant no one should have expected anything less than snow, storms, winds and freezing temperatures. They shouldn't have complained, but in true New England fashion, they did, anyway. It was winter, and Yankees love nothing more than bitching about the weather…and the Red Sox. After all, what on earth else were they supposed to discuss?

For Chief Emma Swan, storms meant extra calls for her officers, helping out Central Maine Power with road details and, best of all, snowball fights, lots of hot chocolate and a winter full of serious cuddling time in front of lazy, all-day fires with her two special someones.

It was fireside during an adults-only cuddling session when Regina heard her phone ring in the foyer.

"Work phone…" she moaned as Emma sucked on her neck. Fingers traveled up a taut stomach, finding a home on a firm breast. "Have to…" the sentence trailed off into a lazy moan as Emma's lips replaced her hand, which pushed up a lacy bra to reveal her goal. "Emmaaaaaa…"

Despite her own protest, Regina's hand didn't stray from Emma's pants, content and busy in its wet, warm destination.

"Unnnnnnn, don't stop…voice mail," the blonde husked.

She shifted on the couch, trying to locate Regina's lips with her own and caress a breast, all while finding the right leverage to buck against the brunette's fingers. "Right, ah…there. God…harder."

"'Voice mail' is the least dirty talk ever," Regina chuckled.

Hell-bent on catching a glorious orgasm just ahead, Emma was in no mood for joking. "You want dirty talk?" she panted, head back on the couch, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. She opened them in challenge and leveled a gaze of pure lust at her girlfriend.

"Fuck me harder," she growled. "I'm gonna come all over your hand."

Regina's pupils blew wide with lust, a wave of pure passion stoking her arousal even higher. Leering, she added a third finger to a pumping hand whose speed shifted from slow and steady to frantic, thumb teasing an aching clit.

"Yes," Emma choked out through clenched teeth. _Soclosesoclosesoclose_. Her face contracted, muscles tight, breaths coming short and fast. Right…right…

"What are you waiting for?" Regina taunted, throaty voice dripping with pure sex. "Come all over my hand."

There.

Emma held her breath as she came violently and silently, straining through a mind-blowing release. She wanted to holler and moan at the top of her lungs, but thanks to a certain light sleeper one floor above, she was reduced to exhaling through her nose and quietly groaning through a hard-set jaw. That, accompanied by occasional tiny grunts and spasms, made it sound more like she was gutting out a Charley horse than enjoying a exceedingly pleasurable climax.

Green eyes opened languidly then sparked with fire as she felt long fingers slowly retreat. She focused on a smug, smiling brunette who looked like she just won the World Championship of Lady-Loving - and who also, cheeks flushed, mouth gaping - obviously needed to come.

Emma knew that look. Without a word she fell to her knees, quickly dropped Regina's pants and underwear to her ankles, pulled her to the edge of the couch, spread firm thighs and dove in.

The work phone rang again amidst the noisy, wet, sultry sounds of licking, sucking and moaning.

"Emma," she begged. The intent was hard to decipher, either: "Emma, get me off" or "Emma, let me answer the phone."

"Uh uh," the blonde moaned seriously, still busily embedded, sending delicious vibrations throughout her lover's sex as she hummed and shook her head wildly.

" _Emma!_ " Unable to determine the intent of the quiet cry, the party in question lifted her head, shiny lips set in a questioning smirk.

"Yes?"

" _Hurry_."

Teeth tugged and nibbled their way up slippery flesh until they reached their throbbing destination, tickling, licking and sucking a needy clit. The feral, passionate manner of Emma's loving quickly drove Regina over the edge. Pants, gasps and ragged breathing made it sound like the woman was drowning as she came hard.

One fist desperately grabbed at the couch cushion as another climax approached. Unable to find purchase, Regina smacked her hand on the sofa as she came once more, Emma pushing her through another peak; pin pricks of light sparking behind tightly shut eyes as she rode out it out. She felt Emma's hands on her body, one trying to steady frantically bucking hips, the other grabbing her hand as it was about to slam down again. Palm to palm, their fingers entwined so tightly knuckles faded to white. When Regina opened her eyes, that's how she found her love, anchoring her with both hands, kneeling at her feet, gently kissing her thighs, slow, panting breaths warm against her damp skin.

Emma gradually stood, then motioning the brunette further back on the couch, straddled her hips. Hands lovingly cradled Regina's face as Emma leaned in to kiss her softly on the lips.

"I love you."

Regina hummed in response and nuzzled the blonde's cheek, the taste of herself nearly sparking her core once more. "I love you, too."

The phone rang a third time.

"Canada better be invading," Emma intoned seriously.

Regina shot up, hitching her pants as she did her best to sprint into the foyer.

"Hello…"

Buttoning her pants, Emma smiled and adjusted her shirt, the smell of sex still hanging heavy in the air. The happy mood was dashed when indistinct talking from the other room was punctuated by a sharp "What?" an exhale, then an angry, "Text me his number."

She walked out with confused eyes to gauge the problem, only to find her girlfriend taking notes, "uh huh"-ing with a scowl on her face.

"Alright, I'll call you back."

"What?"

Brown met green with a fierce stare as Regina rubbed the back of her neck and exhaled.

"Did you forget to tell me something?"

"No."

"About a meeting change?"

Emma squinted in concentration, then felt her stomach bottom out. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

"Oh, God, I am so—you were in the shower and I was working on dinner, then Henry and we were playing and I, oh, Jesus, honey, I am so sorry."

Emma moved to reassure the flustered, frustrated Regina, but her arm was shooed away. One hand perched on her hip; the other pinched the bridge of her nose: "Don't…you don't…you don't understand. This is bad."

She looked on for an explanation; figuring silence was her best option.

"The conservationists are raising hell about the hotel proposal near the waterfront." Regina's voice was high and tight as Emma noticed the frontal vein popping in her forehead. _Shit_.

"But didn't you say it's outside the conservation area?"

"It is, by about 5 feet. They claim that's not enough and they're threatening to picket. They're harassing the developers online, contacting media and lobbyists, and generally raising hell. I'm trying to broker peace and it didn't help that _I blew off the meeting with both sides that was moved to tonight_. This project has been in development for 18 months and could be huge for the town. We were so close to signing."

The brunette paced back and forth as she read her phone. "I have to fix this - now - it's going to take all night. You should go." Turning on a heel she walked into her office and slumped behind the desk, picking up the landline.

Emma stood still in the foyer for half a minute, mad at herself and stunned at how quickly the mood had upended. She grabbed her coat, hat and keys and headed out the door, a practiced, smooth politician's voice ushering her out as the taste of her girlfriend still sat on her lips: "Jacob, Regina Mills, I can't apologize enough for my absence tonight…"

XXXX

Regina strode into the Police Department the following day armed with a box of pastries and an apology. It was 1:30 p.m., past traditional pastry time, but she knew her girlfriend enjoyed baked goods, regardless of hour or potential freshness. And she was really hoping Emma could be bought.

She intended to make this trip hours earlier, but spent all morning meeting with the developers and the conservationists, an ultimately futile affair, as the two sides were still far apart.

Texting Emma twice and leaving a message returned no response; it wasn't uncommon if she were busy or in training. Regina certainly hoped that was the case and not that the blonde was mad at her for her overreaction.

"Afternoon, Martha. Is the Chief in?"

The dispatcher looked up and snickered to herself. _"Chief." I'll give those girls credit, they do try to keep it professional._

"No, ma'am, she's sick."

Regina tried to hide the look of surprise that flashed across her face, which raised an eyebrow on the older woman.

"She called in sick this morning, sounded like death on stilts."

"Oh…" Regina shifted the pastry box in her hand, worried and wondering what to do next. "Do you think the officers would like these?"

She handed over the box.

"Does a bear sh— um, yeah, they would. Thanks."

The 911 line rang, providing a natural break in their awkward interaction. "Storybrooke Police, you're being recorded…"

On her way to the car, Regina called Laura to double check that her afternoon was free and confirmation received, took a half day and headed over to Emma's apartment. It felt strange, knowing Emma existed somewhere other than at her side or at 108 Mifflin Street. The apartment did prove handy, however, when the two women met for occasional "lunch" dates.

Smiling at the memories, she knocked on the door. Hearing no response, she knocked again, louder. It was time to pull out the big guns. She dialed Emma's work cell. One ring…two rings…three rings…

"Are you OK?" groaned the confused voice on the other end. "Why…why are you calling my work line?"

Regina's mind jolted at the weak, raspy, listless tone.

"Because you didn't answer your personal phone and I knew you would answer this. I'm at your door, please let me in."

Footsteps on the line matched those approaching on the other side of the wall as the apartment door swung open. Emma immediately turned and shuffled back to the couch without a glance.

"I was about to break down the door."

"That," she began feebly, waving an arm, "I would like to see." Emma spied her personal cell on the coffee table and sluggishly picked it up as she sat. "Unf. Battery ran out. Sorry."

Half-asleep or half-dead, she lay back down on the couch. "'m sick."

"When did this happen?" Brow creased with worry, Regina took off her coat and squatted - no mean feat in a pencil skirt - to press her lips to Emma's forehead to gauge her temperature. Her skin was scalding.

"Don't, you're gonna get sick." She exhaled, slowly, like it hurt. "Woke up feeling like a car was parked on my chest."

'I don't care. Where's your thermometer?"

The blonde opened one eyelid. "At the store?" She turned and coughed, deep and loose, into an elbow.

"Emma!"

"You caught me, I'm barely an adult," she moaned. "I can't even give you a message, I screw up your job, I ruin the town's future, and now I don't have a thermometer. I'll be OK, I don't want you to get sick. Or Hen." She fluttered her hand lamely in the general direction of the door. "Go home."

"Absolutely not. Did you take any medicine? Do you have any medicine?"

"Nyquil. Took some just before you came. Sleepy."

"Then rest."

"Leave."

The brunette crossed her arms, a display of determination lost on the fading challenger. "Hnnnnn…"

Emma slept for the next couple of hours, which gave Regina time to buy a thermometer and grab some groceries at the store, a necessity she realized when she poked around the kitchen and found its sad contents: a half-gallon of milk, two pints of Ben & Jerry's, a box of Cheerios and a Chinese takeout container she would refuse to open even at gunpoint.

By the time the blonde made her first noise in hours, Regina had arranged for Kathryn to take Henry for the night and changed into a pair of Emma's old sweats and a long-sleeved T after she realized she forgot to swing by her house for more comfortable clothes.

She was reading a report, highlighter in her teeth and feet propped up on the coffee table, when she felt the couch shift and a tired sigh emanate from the other end.

"Regina?"

"How are you feeling?" She gently rubbed Emma's warm hip.

"Ow, achy."

Regina tisked, then rose, poured a glass of Gatorade and grabbed the thermometer.

"Prop yourself up a little." With assistance, Emma did just that, opening and closing her lips around the beeping thermometer. It was about all the physical exertion she could handle.

"Did you get a flu shot?"

"I'm trying to raise an eyebrow, 's it working?"

Regina snorted. "No…I don't understand, we offered shots at town hall in November. Where were you?"

"Mmmm, no idea," she mumbled around the metal rod in her mouth. The thermometer beeped urgently.

"104," Regina announced. "Drink this." Emma accepted the straw and sucked down the Gatorade. "We need to keep you drinking or you'll get dehydrated, and then we're heading to the ER. When's the last time you went to the bathroom?"

She shrugged half-heartedly.

"OK, up we go." Emma wobbled as she stood with Regina's help and taking her arm, shuffled to the bathroom. The brunette stood outside.

"Keep talking to me or I'm coming in."

"Uh," the voice sounded small and tinny behind the door. "I made you my emergency contact."

"What?" That was the last thing she expected to hear while Emma flushed and washed her hands. The door opened slowly, with a creak, as Emma reached for a supportive arm.

"I made you my emergency contact. If anything ever happened to me and they needed—"

"No. Don't say that. _No._ " The tone was serious and insistent.

"I should have asked first," she slurred, "'m sorry, I—"

"No, darling, I mean…" she shook her head, mentally rewinding. "I mean, nothing is going to happen to you. _It can't._ But of course, of course I will be your emergency contact, love."

Regina leaned in and hugged the fatigued woman gently. "I love you."

"Love you, too. I'm sorry about last night."

"I know," she soothed. "I'm sorry I overreacted."

Laying on the couch once again, she sighed, exhausted, and slipped into unconsciousness once more, surprising Regina when she awoke less than a half-hour later.

"Regina, can I have more Gatorade?" The brunette startled as she read, the voice floated over sleepy and soft. She barely opened her eyes.

She refilled the glass and placed the straw into Emma's mouth. She drank greedily, then smacked her lips and lowered herself back down to her pillow, hands tucked under her chin.

"Regina?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Marry me."

The brunette froze, one page in her report completely aloft as it was about to be turned.

"Excuse me?"

She glanced over and found Emma still laying, eyes closed.

"I want to marry you, Regina." Emma stated it as naturally as if she asked the woman to change the channel. She laid on her side, half mumbling, which turned into a leisurely, dreamy, stream-of-consciousness ramble. "Marry me, you'll be my wife, and I'll be yours, and we'll raise Henry and he'll be an awesome person, I just know it because he's got you and, hell, I can't screw him up too bad, right, and I'll have a wife, I can't believe it, a wife, you know women were always trying to drag me into something and I never wanted it, never once, until I saw you and then I knew I never wanted anything more in my whole life, and even though you can do better than me, I'm never letting you go, no way, no matter how hard I screw up, it's gonna be amazing, you'll see."

Regina looked on, throat tight, chest squeezing with fear and excitement, trying to determine the blonde's level of consciousness. Was this a fever dream, a half-conscious confession or the world's weirdest proposal?

_What the hell was in that Gatorade?_

Emma groaned and shifted, eyes still closed. _It's wrong,_ Regina thought guiltily, invading Emma's obviously private thoughts and hopes that were leaking out in spectacular fashion. But she couldn't resist.

"And what would we do after we got married?" The question was soft, hopeful.

"We would have _so many_ babies." Emma giggled to herself while Regina's eyes widened. Another unexpected answer. "Why are my eyelids so heavy, I can't open them, so I would move in and we would have, like, three more kids, do you want to get pregnant again cause if you don't, I would, imagine Henry as a big brother, he'd be so cool, Robert'd probably ask to be the baby daddy, I'd say no, he doesn't get to sleep with you, don't let him tell you I said yes because no one touches you ever again but me, you're mine, forever."

"You want children?" Regina bit her lip; this was wrong, so wrong.

"With you, yeah, I never wanted kids until I met Henry and then oh my God he's so awesome, imagine more Henrys or girl Henrys, they would be so cute and he'd never be alone, he'd never be alone, and he would have a family who would always take care of him and be with him and love him and never give him up."

Regina's heart clenched, this was getting too raw, too real, too intrusive. If Emma wanted to share these thoughts with her, she would be fully conscious and cognizant. She leaned over and gently pressed her lips to Emma's.

"Don't, you'll get sick."

"I would love to marry you, Emma Swan."

The blonde rolled onto her other side with a groan, hitching up the covers. "Yaaaaaaaay," she cheered faintly, completely drained, then finally passed out.

It took Regina a long time to fall asleep. She woke early the next morning to find Emma lying next to her, lids at half-mast, reading her phone.

"Kathryn says Henry is doing fine and ate his weight in pancakes before she dropped him off at Nicole's."

"How did you know to call her?"

Emma chuckled, which led to a wheezing cough. Regina looked on with worry until Emma held up a hand.

"I woke up and freaked out. You were here, in my apartment. Where was Henry? After a mild heart attack I realized he was either at Ruby's or Kathryn's." She scooted over slowly and burrowed into Regina's side. "Nice clothes, by the way. You look so cute." An arm possessively covered Regina's torso. "I grabbed my phone and found a text from Kathryn."

She passed it over as Regina read:

**If you two want to bang on a school night, you don't have to make up a lame excuse.**

Emma snickered. "I don't even remember you coming over last night."

"No?" Regina was glad Emma was tucked into her side and couldn't read the disappointment on her face.

"Last thing I remember was falling asleep on the couch, alone. Then I wake up and you're here, with me, in my bed. Where'd this thermometer come from?"

Regina sniffed and tried to clear the lump in her suddenly tight throat. "I bought it after I witnessed your disturbing lack of everything. The contents of your apartment are bullets, Ben & Jerry's, and a bottle of Nyquil." She turned on the thermometer and pressed it in between pale lips. "Open."

"All necessities." Emma rolled onto her back and groaned, wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands. "And Ben and Jerry are the only two guys that get me excited."

"Hush. Let's see where you're at." The joke temporarily alleviated Regina's disappointment: Emma was feeling slightly better. She, however, was not.

XXXX

"Hey, how's my girl?"

"Alright, just getting over a bitch of a bug." Now on her third-consecutive sick day, Emma was growing roots on her couch.

"I meant the other one."

"Seriously, you meet her, like, 6 weeks ago and she's your girl? I'm offended."

"Hey, you start sending Mama pictures of her cute new grandson and you'll be back in her good graces. Although, I think the shine from Mightyfine's halo is covering you, too. Why, I don't know, you lazy woman."

"Bite me."

"Did I tell you that when my Pops came home from Miami he walks in and says, 'Who's this honky family on my mantel?'"

"He did not."

"Uh huh."

"He said 'honky'?"

"The man's a colorful cat. So, anyway, how _is_ my girl?"

"Why don't you call her?"

"I tried, she's not answering."

"What?"

"She texted me she's in a meeting."

"Get the fuck out." Emma grabbed her phone and texted Regina:

**You in a meeting?**

"Anyway, she's good. So what's up?"

"Ran into Danny Duggan. Asked if you were still up in East Bumfuck."

Emma snorted. "He'd love it if I flamed out."

"He isn't your biggest fan."

"Seriously? He's still mad?"

A sonorous laugh rumbled over the phone. "Oh, he most certainly is."

"That was two years ago!" The instinct to defend herself surged like it was yesterday. "I had no idea that was his sister. _None_!"

Peals of laughter rang over the line, practically shaking Emma's cell. "That was, hands down, the best cookout ever." Robert blew out a breath; Emma pictured his broad shoulders shaking, tears forming in his eyes. "Behind the bouncy house? What the fuck were you thinking?"

Her phone beeped while the man composed himself.

_Yes, why? Are you OK?_

Emma snickered as she shook her head with a chuckle.

**I'm fine. Robert wants to talk to you when you're done.**

_Have him call me tonight. xoxo_

"Jesus. Whatever. For the record, _she_ hit on _me_. _She_ dragged _me_ behind the bouncy house. Did he want something or to just, you know, wish me second-hand ill will?"

"Heeeee…" he giggled. "So he says a friend of his, trooper your way, 's gonna give you a ring. Wants to meet, welcome you to Maine or some shit."

"I've been in Maine for 6 months now. And how a terrifying man of your stature can giggle I will never know."

"Baby, I'm a sensitive soul. Like The Lion King. You find me a woman yet?"

"I'm auditioning right now. I'll let you know. Listen, no one up here is crazy enough to want the likes of you."

"You found the best thing that ever happened to you in the middle of fucking nowhere. A gorgeous, smart, sexy, kind person. If you could, shit, I'm a slam dunk."

"You're delusional. Regina says to call her tonight - Christ almighty, you two. Be safe, you big loser."

"Love you, too."

XXXX

"CHIEF…PHONE!" Martha's gravely tones rocketed unimpeded into Emma's office.

_I need a fucking intercom._

Emma reached for the receiver, rolling her eyes. "Emma Swan…" A few seconds passed, the hiss of an open line punctuating the silence. "Hello?" A dial tone followed a click.

"Martha!"

Getting no response, Emma stood and leaned out of the doorway, only to find the dispatcher holding up an index finger as she finished a call: "10-4, Alpha-2. 10-56, 279 Wayne Road." She turned as soon as she released the mic. "Yeah?"

"Got a number on that call you just sent through?"

Martha looked down and checked the display. "Nope. Says 'private.'"

She nodded quickly, then rubbed a temple with two fingers. "Get Ray over here as soon as you can. That's, like, the fourth dropped call I've had in a couple of weeks. I want to know if it's the handset or the line. If he says the phone's fine, have him call Verizon, alright?"

Emma's cell buzzed as Martha opened her mouth to answer. She pulled it out of her pocket and couldn't suppress the grin. The dispatcher smirked, decoding the caller as easily as reading a billboard.

"Hey, did you just try to call my office?"

"I have a direct line, darling, why would I go through Martha?"

"Cause she's fun?"

"Regardless, I need a favor…"

Over the past week, Emma had made significant progress recovering from what Regina believed to be the flu and Emma considered a major pain in the ass. The brunette also rallied from her disappointment centering over Emma's short-term memory loss. She recognized two facts, which ultimately pleased her greatly: 1. Emma believed those thoughts subconsciously, which meant they were true, and 2. She wanted to marry Emma Swan.

Emma lowered her voice as she returned to her office and shut the door. "Is it sexual?" she purred.

"You're terrible."

"Terribly sexy, yes."

" _Emma_ , I have to go out of town for a few days, will you watch Henry? We have one final shot at this deal. The developers are at their wits end, they're ready to walk away. This is it. I have to go to Boston."

"Oh." That wasn't what she expected, rather something more along the lines of, _Would you grab milk before you come over tonight?_ "Sure, uh, do you think, you know, I can do it?"

A warm smile crept onto an olive face. "Of course, you already do. I fully expect to come home and have him want to move in with you."

"I _am_ fun. I do have all those ice cream and bullets at my place. When?"

"Tomorrow. It's last minute, I know but—" The low voice grew taut, the speed increased, Emma knew how frustrating this was for her.

"Of course, I would love to. I'll see you tonight, you can run me through everything?"

"I love you."

"I know. I'm quite fond of you, too."

Emma was just about to utter "Bye" and hang up when one last requested sounded.

"Would you grab milk on the way over? We're out."

XXXX

Emma Swan was not a paranoid person, but she knew when something was off.

Amazingly, Martha did just as she was asked; Emma's phone and line were checked and determined to be fully functional. That meant the calls were hang-ups, probably pranks from bored teens stuck in midwinter Maine or fired-up adults who lost their nerve to complain once they heard the Chief's voice.

No big deal. That's what Emma told herself until she felt herself being watched one morning during a run. Henry had been dropped off at Nicole's for the day, which gave her just enough time to sneak in a quick few miles before work.

As her feet pounded rhythmically against the slush and freezing pavement, Emma caught a black sedan out of the corner of her eye. She'd seen it earlier on her route, and given she ran the same routes all the time depending on the distance she wanted to cover, she knew exactly who and what belonged where and when. And that didn't.

She continued to run, concentrating on her breathing and her rhythm, watching the car out of the corner of her eye. It was a shitty tail, the vehicle one block over on a parallel street. Emma spotted it at random cross streets and again when it apparently doubled back, which meant it was probably a civilian. She had seen the car on another run before she was sick, thinking little of it. Seeing it twice sticking out like a lump of coal in a smooth patch of snow caused her to draw two conclusions: Someone wanted to talk to her, and she was going to have to start carrying a gun on runs. _Fuck_ , she thought, as she slowed to a walk upon reaching Mifflin, her breaths pluming out round and white. _That will chafe like a bitch._

XXXX

The concern of Emma's mystery caller/workout voyeur was soon overshadowed by her enjoyment of new role as Henry-sitter/full-time surrogate mother

As Regina's two-day trip stretched to three, none of the parties minded, everyone was having fun. Emma did all the responsible work - pickups, drop-offs, meals, laundry, tooth-brushing and even the occasional bath. The responsibility was accompanied by a larger amount of fun and mischief: living room forts, ice cream sundaes, and Celtics and Bruins games on TV.

One night, the pair came home with a small Nerf basketball hoop, which Emma taped to the living room archway with a serious request: "Don't tell Momma I did this." She tried to teach the boy how to box out, an exercise that always ended with Henry tackling her to the floor with a giggle.

"We gotta move this before Momma comes home," she reminded him the next night, lying on the living room floor trying to recover from the child's peculiar brand of full-contact basketball. "I'll get in trouble." Emma giggled at the thought of Regina spying a plastic basketball rim duck taped to her beautiful oak woodwork.

Henry rolled over and folded himself into Emma's arm, laying his head above her breast. "She won't be mad at you," he assured, matter of fact. "You her bestest friend."

Emma felt her heart squeeze. "I love her more than anything."

"I know, she love you, too. Can I have ice cream?"

Not one night did the boy sleep in his bed. Every evening at bedtime, the pair cocooned in Regina's bed and FaceTimed the owner.

"Hellooooooo…" Accompanying the cheery greeting on Regina's screen were two faces, both wearing fake mustaches. The smaller face was laughing so hard his mustache fell off.

"What on earth happened to my two favorite people in the world?"

"HEY!" came an indignant, telltale, baritone protest from the back of Regina's room. Despite the stress of the trip, even she was having a surprisingly good time, given her evenings were occupied by dinner with some combination of the Preachers.

"You've been gone so long we're growing facial hair in protest."

"Hi Momma!"

"You look so grown up, my love."

"I KNOW!"

"I have good news, I'm coming home tomorrow. The deal is signed, conservationists appeased. Storybrooke gets a new hotel."

"Congratulations! That's awesome. That's all you, I hope you're taking all the credit."

"It's not good news for me!" Robert bellowed in the background. "I'm going to miss my Mightyfine. Oh, hey, Swan: Mama says you're no longer No. 1 daughter." A rich laugh rolled across the screen. "Henry, cover your eyes, man."

The boy did just that, which allowed Robert to flip Emma off. "Ha HA!"

"Yeah, well, I'll just have to make it up to her when you guys come up. Hen, you can open your eyes, dude. Regardless, I get my Mightyfine back and you are left with, huh…" Emma tapped her chin as if she were stumped. "What's less than 1?"

"Emma, be nice."

"What? You're taking _his_ side? Do you know how many years of teasing I've had at his hands? For the record, I do not like this," she waved her finger accusingly at pair on screen, "at all."

XXXX

Regina returned triumphant the following afternoon relieved and happy. She arrived home to multiple hugs and kisses - some G-rated, most not - a homemade dinner by Emma and a…basketball hoop in her living room?

"Unh, Hen! You were supposed to remind me!"

"Momma, watch me play basketball!" He grabbed the small orange foam ball and charged into Emma like a fullback, dropping her to a knee.

The following day dawned sunny and unseasonably warm – low 50s – very impressive for Maine in late February. The area had enjoyed mid to high '40s over the past two days – practically shorts weather - the stretch frustrating ski areas but pleasing residents, who found all ground cover melted. These teasing days happened once or twice every New England winter. Residents knew the season was far from over, but they also knew to enjoy these days when they came.

The weather fit right in line with the hail-conquering-hero mood awaiting Mayor Mills at town hall. There were congratulations from colleagues, an interview with Sidney for the paper, meetings with department heads, and a bouquet of flowers from Robert.

Regina looked forward to everything returning to normal, and wanted nothing more than to go home, make dinner and eat with her favorite people. She shut down precisely at 5 and pulled out of the parking lot…straight into a traffic jam.

_Storybrooke doesn't have traffic jams._

Reaching for her phone, she was about to call Emma when the line of cars started to move. She spotted Graham detouring traffic around the closed entrance to Main Street and rolled down her window.

"What's going on?"

"Accident." He looked pale.

"Is it serious?"

He nodded, grimly. "Yes."

"Is the Chief on the scene?"

He nodded, Regina followed. She rolled up her windows, picked up Henry at the sitter's and headed home. The minute she parked, she pulled out her cell.

**What's going on? Call me when you get a chance. xoxo**

Halfway through dinner prep, her phone beeped.

_Fatal bike-car on Main & Beach. Will miss dinner. Will call with info when I have it. Hug Henry for me. Love you._

Dinner long over and a grumpy Henry in bed - "Where Chief?!" he demanded over and over - her city-issued BlackBerry rang.

"Yes?"

"Madam Mayor, it's the Chief." Emma's voice was toneless. This was not good. "I'm calling to inform you there was a fatal bicycle-car accident on Main Street at approximately 16:30 today." Regina did the conversion in her head: 4:30 p.m. "A 10-year-old male on a bicycle was struck and killed."

Regina sat as Emma continued. "Preliminary reports indicate the driver was not at fault; we believe solar glare to be the cause, as well as failure to heed a stop sign by the child. The investigation is ongoing but evidence suggests it was an accident. I'm finishing the release now. I'll send it to you before I release it to the press. The family has been informed by myself and Pastor Pat Anderson."

 _Pastor Pat._ Regina swallowed thickly.

"Thank you, Chief."

Regina immediately picked up her iPhone.

**I don't care what time you get out tonight, please come here and stay.**

She hoped that communicated what she meant: I want to take care of you, I know you're hurting.

_OK_

When the press release appeared on her phone 15 minutes later, Regina sagged as she read it. The child was Joseph Cooper a - shit - fifth grader at Storybrooke Elementary. She made a note to call Kathryn immediately to see how she was holding up. The family name sounded familiar but she couldn't place it. The driver was 74-year-old Grace Bennett. Dammit, Grace she knew. The woman was a well-known volunteer around town and a lovely woman. Tomorrow she'd call Grace to see if she needed anything, along with a condolence call to the Coopers and offers of any assistance the town could provide.

Emma arrived near midnight, exhausted. Drawn and pale, she walked into Regina's arms the moment she could reach them. She hung off the brunette silently, then with a sigh headed upstairs.

"Are you hungry?" Regina asked the slowly retreating form.

"No, I just want to sleep."

After locking up and lights out, she found Emma standing over Henry's bed, stroking the boy's mop of brown hair, tears running down her cheeks. Regina was honored her house was a safe haven, that Emma felt she could express such gut-wrenching sorrow here, yet was saddened the woman had to go through it at all.

"I thought…I thought these things bothered me before," she choked out, voice weak and watery. "It's so much worse now…cause, you know…this little guy. I love him so much, Regina, I just…"

Rubbing small circles into Emma's strong back, she implored: "Come to bed."

Emma shuffled into the master bedroom ready to remove her clothes only to feel her hands stilled. "Let me." Regina reverently undressed the woman, carefully unbuttoning and unzipping, slowly redressing her in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt Emma always thought she forgot, but one the brunette secretly tucked away after each wearing.

The pair retired to the bed, Regina pulling the woman into her embrace.

"I've seen worse, way worse," Emma mumbled, pillowed into Regina's chest. "But I've never felt so bad in my life."

Regina sighed and rubbed a defined, toned arm, practically willing the woman to force her brain to shut down for the night.

"I've got you, my love." Her chest vibrated as Emma shook with a sob. "I've got you."

XXXX

The following days were dark and dreary for Storybrooke. Winter weather descended once again, bearing frost and cold, while an emotional pall hung over a small town in mourning.

Not every resident knew the parties involved, but everyone felt the loss. As the face of the town, Regina consoled the grieving families - both the Coopers and the Bennetts. Kathryn had to bring grief counselors into school to help the staff and students make sense of a senseless loss. The death of a child was enough to draw media from Augusta, which meant Emma had to give interviews regarding the details, as well as the importance of bicycle road safety.

Print and television media also covered the funeral, a thoroughly painful, gut-wrenching affair. Regina, Emma and Kathryn never watched the coverage, but if they had they would have spied a sobering imagine of the trio side by side by side, determined and grim, walking into the church: Regina and Kathryn in somber black dresses and overcoats, Emma in her dress uniform.

During the service, Emma bit the inside of her cheek to the point of drawing blood, trying to distract herself from Pastor Pat's well-meaning words, which he spoke next to a small coffin. She knew if she listened for more than 2 seconds, she'd lose it. She felt Regina's warm fingers hold hers, a thumb rubbing her white-gloved hand gently.

That night, she lay in bed, Regina cradled in her arms, both emotionally spent from an excruciating gauntlet. She tried to fall asleep, concentrating on Regina's smooth breathing or the warm, rich smell of her skin, but the realization continued to throb in her head and would not let go: Even the smallest towns can't escape the biggest tragedies.

**TBC**


	16. Chapter 16

"Ow, man, you bounced that one off my teeth!"

Regina's favorite new past time was watching her two loves interact when they didn't know she was looking. They were so adorable, so natural together, it almost eased her guilt over the spying. Almost. _It's not spying,_ she justified, _it's watching with love._

And she was presently love-watching Emma and Henry, laying next to each other on the couch. They had been watching Sesame Street, but that was abandoned for the much more educational pursuit of learning how to catch Goldfish crackers in their mouths.

"See, it's like this," Emma explained, tossing a tiny cracker into the air. Henry watched it arc up and then drop into her mouth like magic.

He giggled wildly. "Wow."

"I know, cool, right?"

The lesson had evolved when Emma realized she brought in the bag of Goldfish, but not bowls. Too lazy to get up and get one, as well as too slothful to actually keep reaching into the bag for more, she simply deposited a handful on her stomach and another on Henry's chest.

"Don't tell Mom," she winked. "So, someone in this room has a birthday coming up?"

"Me!" A cracker flew up and over the back of the couch.

"What do you want to do?"

"A party. Can we do Cars?"

This was all new to Emma, she had never planned a party, child or otherwise, in her life. I'm sure Regina's good at this.

"You mean, like, have Cars stuff, balloons?"

"Yeah and games."

Regina remained at the entrance, leaning on the archway, smiling to herself. Henry had never had a big birthday party before.

"And I wanna invite my friends from school."

Emma felt a pang. "Friends" always came out "fwends."

"Sure, we'll ask Momma, I bet she'd be cool with it." One of Henry's crackers bounced off her nose. "Are any of those getting close? You almost got that one in my mouth."

"No," he laughed. "You come to the party?"

As if they could keep her away. "I wouldn't be anywhere else." An important question raced to the front of her mind. "Oh, hey, what do you want for your birthday for, you know, presents?"

She launched a cracker that curved in midair, then landed on her tongue perfectly. She was swallowing when Henry replied.

"A baby."

Regina had to stifle a combination of laughter and shock on the edge of the room as Emma struggled not to choke.

"Hold up." Emma sat up and coughed, then swallowed again, forcing the final bits of cracker down her throat. She laid back once more. "A baby doll?"

"No a baby. Real baby, a girl one."

The follow-up was slow, cautious: "Why do you want a baby?"

"Brian just got one. If we had one I could teach her stuff." Emma was amazed at how logical he sounded; in his mind he had it all figured out.

"So you want to be a big brother."

"Yeah."

"Why do you want a girl?"

"Cause I the boy." He narrowed his eyes as if Emma were incredibly dumb.

"Ah, right. I hear you, but I can't get you a sister, pal."

"Sure you can. You and Momma." He remained unfazed and confident, as if requesting a glass of milk from the fridge.

"It's a little more complicated than that. Babies are a lot of work. Momma has to want a baby, too, you know? We gotta ask her."

"Then ask her. You and Momma will take care of her. I teach her lots."

Emma turned her head and looked at the child, a baby still himself. He was as serious as one could be, bouncing crackers off his head. Regina was dying to know where this conversation would go next.

"It's not that easy. You can't just go buy a baby. Maybe someday, OK?"

Henry took the news in stride. "Alright. Then I want some cars."

"That we can do."

"Cheef?"

"Yeah?"

"You want a baby?"

Emma was about to toss a cracker and stopped. She turned and smiled. "I do. But I think we need to wait a bit."

For the first time, his face scrunched in confusion. "Why?"

That was a good question: Why? She paused, trying to formulate the answer. "Well, I need to talk to Momma. And we should get married first."

"Why?"

Another good question. Prior to last year, Emma could count the numbers of times she experience the desire to marry on zero hands. While she was obviously staunchly pro-marriage for all, she never felt she had a dog in the fight for one simple reason: She never intended to marry. But now?

Turning her head, she caught the boy's eye. "Because I love her. And I like the idea of being officially being committed to her and her to me." A chuckle bubbled up. "Why do I always talk to you like you're 23 instead of 3?"

"I almost 4," he noted, matching her smile.

"Well, that must be it, then."

Regina remained a shadow, silently stunned at the conversation, her heart thumping so loud she feared it would give her away.

"And there's another reason to wait a bit."

"What?"

She leaned over and kissed the child's forehead. "I'm having so much fun with you." She snaked a finger down to his armpit and wiggled, eliciting a giggle. "But, hey, don't tell Momma what we just talked about. That's our secret. OK?"

"Momma says we shouldn't keep secrets." Regina flushed with pride at the answer.

"She's right, but in this case I think she'd say it's OK."

"Why?"

"Is that your favorite word?" Emma tried to figure out how to answer; he wouldn't understand I don't want to rush her. "It's not the right time yet. But when it is, I will let you know. That OK?"

"OK." A cracker grazed Emma's ear. "Can we tell her about the party?"

"Definitely. We need her help for that. I bet she's really good at parties."

The pair lay wordlessly, tossing and crunching, as Regina quietly walked back into the foyer. She felt simultaneously guilty and elated at what she'd overheard, then she remembered why she went to find Emma in the first place. She fanned her face trying to lower the color in her cheeks, which had flushed red with the discussion.

"Emma, Kathryn called," she announced loudly, walking into the room and up to the couch. She stood over her son and girlfriend, one eyebrow cocked at the sea of Goldfish in, on and around the furniture.

"She did?" Feeling cheeky, Emma remained on her back eating off her shirt, Henry flinging tiny orange crackers with abandon. "I'll, uh, vacuum this up," she grinned, trying to be as cute as possible, in case Regina didn't think the activity was as fun as she and Henry did.

The brunette picked a few crackers off Emma's stomach and popped them in her mouth. They _were_ good.

"She said she needed to talk to you about Alice." A sly smile tugged red lips skyward. "Do you have another girlfriend?"

"I wish," she replied, rueful.

Both women's eyes blew wide at the answer. Emma sat up so quickly Goldfish flew onto the floor and over to the other end of the couch. "Oh, God. No! No! That's not what I—" Her voice caught in her throat at the accidental answer. Splayed fingers begged for Regina to stop and listen. "Just…I misspoke, let me explain." She blew out a harsh breath, as Henry looked on, amused. _Jesus, good going, Swan._

"ALICE is the name of that emergency school shooter drill we're doing. It stands for Alert. Lockdown. Inform." She ticked the words off on her fingers, until she got stumped, biting a lip in frustration. "Hold on. Inform…Counter. Evacuate. Yes! Alert. Lockdown. Inform. Counter. Evacuate: ALICE. Phew."

She scooped crackers off the couch cushion and patted it, inviting Regina to join her. As the couch sagged under the weight of another party, Emma leaned in and kissed her gently. "I meant I wish I didn't have to talk to her about it. That we didn't have to do it at all."

Regina nodded in agreement. Emma and Kathryn had briefed the School Committee and the City Council on the upcoming drill. It was a horrible thought - that an "active shooter" could be in their buildings with the intent of hurting children or staff - but it was a necessary precaution for an unimaginable evil that could happen - and had - even in the smallest of towns.

"Are your people ready?" Regina intertwined her fingers with Emma's, she knew how sensitive her girlfriend had become to the thought of child victims.

"We are. We drill in two days. The whole thing's only going to take an hour, I just wish we didn't have to do it at all."

"I know."

Long fingers threaded their way into sleek, black hair as Emma pulled Regina in for another kiss, only to suddenly stop with a squint. "Are you OK? You're all red."

XXXX

Two days later, the ALICE drill ran at Storybrooke Elementary without incident. At 1 p.m., Principal Kathryn Midas keyed the mic on the school intercom and uttered the code, an announcement that sent students huddling in the least-visible corner of their current room while teachers quickly locked classroom doors, shut off the lights and joined them.

Police cruisers screamed onto school property and followed their tactical training to a T. Emma found it incredibly eerie, walking by locked classroom after classroom, a bustling school completely silent, yet practically vibrating with nerves. She peeked in one window, the only sign of life was one small, stray sneaker jiggling nervously. She passed another room and swallowed thickly when she spied the door: "Miss McKenzie's Class." Sweep complete, school "secure," Emma headed into the main office and knocked on the principal's locked office door.

"Ma'am, this is Chief Swan. All clear."

She heard movement, then through the narrow glass opening window in the door, saw Kathryn come into view from her left. She nodded and exited the room, three secretaries right behind her. _They all fit in that corner?_

"Boys and girls, this is Principal Midas. Thank you for doing such a wonderful job helping our police friends practice. Well done! Chief Swan will be at the buses at dismissal for high-fives."

The mic clicked off. "I will?"

"Yes. Now, coffee, then debrief in my office."

Emma smirked. It was so weird to see professional Kathryn and not the sarcastic, profane version she knew in private. She was about to salute in jest, but remembered they were in front of Kathryn's employees. "You got it."

After the debrief and report writing, the women stood outside, high-fiving students filing onto buses in a single line.

"Emma?"

She turned at the sound of her name, annoyed that it broke the string of 192 high-fives she had been counting, to find her tall, dark, former flame.

"Hey," she began, trying to mask unease. Amazingly, she hadn't seen or even run into Liz since they'd broken up. "How are you?"

"Good." Blue eyes raked up and down Emma's form, clad in the dark patrol uniform. "I didn't like that, though." She jerked her head toward the school.

"I know. But it was necessary. How'd your kids handle it?"

Liz smiled almost shyly, recalling 21 first-graders crowded on top of each other, all trying to claim her lap as they tried their best to be quiet in a very new situation. "They were surprisingly very good. We talked about it a lot and practiced."

Emma caught Kathryn glaring out of the corner of her eye one bus line away.

"So, how have you been?" the teacher asked. The words were innocent but the underlying meaning was clear: _How is life with Regina?_

"I'm happy."

Liz sighed internally. Emma looked great and she did look happy. If she had to dump me, at least it was for a long-term relationship. "The Chief and The Mayor" had been the talk of Storybrooke when they first got together. She had refrained from participating, especially given that her boss was the Mayor's best friend.

"Well, that's great. If you ever want to get coffee, let me know, OK?"

Emma heard the meaning loud and clear: _If you ever break up, call me._

"Sure." _No way._ "Take care."

Liz turned on a heel and passed her boss. "See you tomorrow, Kat."

"Have a good night."

Kathryn sauntered up to Emma as the last bus pulled out. "How was that?"

"Awkward."

"Let's not mention that to Regina."

"Are you nuts?" The stress of the day and the surprise of seeing Liz combined into a loud, jittery laugh that echoed off the school's brick walls. "Why on earth would I? Regina can't even say her name, the couple times she's come up." She laughed harder. "She calls her 'the teacher.'"

Emma's giggling was so infectious, Kathryn couldn't help but join in. It felt good to let loose. "Oh my God, I can picture her face." She tried to approximate her fiercest stare.

"That's pretty close. So, yeah, let's keep that quiet. Although… jealous Regina is pretty damn sexy." Emma used the heels of her hands to wipe tears from her eyes as the pair headed back into the school.

"And scary."

"True. Hey, you did great today." Emma clapped the principal on the shoulder.

"Of course I did. You weren't so bad yourself."

XXXX

It had been a long day. There was a full morning at the station prepping the officers, then the drill itself, followed by her time with Kathryn. The women grabbed dinner together after finishing their report, then headed straight to Town Hall for the School Committee meeting.

By the time Emma pulled up to 108 Mifflin Street, Henry was long in bed, a fact that made her sigh. She could have used a dose of him today.

"When'd you get home?" she asked, walking through the door and gesturing at Regina's work clothes - blouse, skirt and heels. "Did you have a meeting?"

"Normal time. I didn't think to change."

"I would never think to wear that in the first place," Emma chuckled. She walked into Regina's office and pulled her gun out of its holster, releasing the clip of bullets into her palm. Both were locked in the gun safe that had taken up residence on top of a bookcase.

"That's a shame." Regina slid behind Emma and threaded her arms around the blonde's torso, the sultry statement hanging in the air. "You'd look amazing. Maybe someday you would? For me?" She hugged tightly, Emma's duty belt biting into her abs.

"For you?" She turned in her arms and kissed the brunette sweetly. "Anything. Ever. In the world."

Regina pulled away, taking Emma by the hand and leading her out into the foyer. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm good. Had dinner with Kathryn."

Brown eyes widened. "I don't like the sound of that."

"You shouldn't, you were the main topic of conversation." Emma snorted, then looked across the room, watching Regina stare at her, lips parted slightly, a spaced-out look on her face. This wasn't about dinner with Kathryn. The blonde had a thought, one that she desperately hoped was correct, the possibility of which immediately removed all fatigue.

"I saw the School Committee meeting, you looked quite dashing. Smart. Confident. Tough."

Loving the idea of Regina watching her on the town's community access channel - a signal that looked as if it was coming from the Mars Rover – she laughed. She could picture it: Regina, relaxing on the couch as Emma spouted her report and answered questions in her professional, measured "cop voice." The brunette sitting at home, getting hot and bothered in the best possible way.

She smiled playfully. "A question, Madam Mayor, if I may…"

Regina's head jerked slightly, the noise pulling her out of her trance. "Yes, love?"

"Do all uniforms make you want to drop your panties or just that of your chief of police?"

Regina sucked in a small breath at the image and Emma's teasing tone. She recovered quickly.

"Why, just yours, Chief," she purred. Crossing the room, she grabbed Emma's tie and pulled herself into the blonde.

Emma mentally pumped a fist - _YES_ \- all while trying to maintain a hard-ass persona. She pulled away, avoiding the brunette's lips, wanting to see just how far this little game might go.

"I see. Have you been drinking tonight, ma'am?" She narrowed her gaze, thinking of the hard-ass drill instructors from the academy and their thousand-yard stares, and arrogantly hooked her thumbs in her duty belt.

"I have. Just one." The answer snapped across the room, defiant. "Is that a crime?"

 _Hoo-boy._ Emma tried not to crack a smile. She pictured that asshole DI Murphy: _"Stop being a fucking pussy, Swan. Twenty mountain climbers, right fucking now!"_

"Drunk and disorderly is, and I suspect you're a little of both."

Regina opened her mouth to answer but the words never made it out. Before the brunette could speak, Emma spun her around, and pushed her - gently but firmly - against the wall. She was cuffed before she even realized what occurred, shocked by the woman's speed and agility. The "zzzzttt" of the closing cuffs ripped across the suddenly silent room.

Emma leaned in and whispered, "The safe word is 'delta.'" Cheek pressed against the wall, Regina nodded and Emma almost came on the spot.

"What do you think you're doing?" the brunette hissed imperiously.

Emma used the side of her foot to kick out her lover's legs, widening them by several inches. Regina heard the squeak of Emma's boots, then a soft thud. Suddenly a hand firmly gripped each ankle. A shudder of anticipation lit up her spine as warmth sparked in her sex.

A thick voice husked up from the floor: "A thorough search."

Starting at the ankles, long fingers grasped, groped and kneaded their way slowly up nylon-clad legs. Their trail was agonizingly drawn-out, the pressure and heat of Emma's questing hands inching up Regina's legs as her core throbbed. Her limbs were toned and firm, the feel of Emma's natural enemy - panty hose - slick and delicious under her fingers. Digits spread, Emma teasingly squeezed and stroked up the inside of the brunette's thighs, just out of reach.

"An officer can never be too careful."

XXXX

February slid into March. The temperatures grew slightly warmer - a relative fact in Maine - and the days were slightly longer, all welcome developments. But the most pleasing circumstance was the fact that Emma's mystery caller/stalker had disappeared as quickly as he - or she - arrived.

She wore a gun on her runs, tucked into a holster over her running tights and under a bulky fleece vest. She cut a hole in the vest pocket, which would allow her to reach through and grab it quickly, while still hiding it from plain sight. She didn't need anyone to know the Chief of Police was literally running around town with a gun - especially her girlfriend.

Emma hated keeping this detail from Regina and figured if she told her it would do no good, only causing the woman incredible worry. Regina had lost one love to violence; Emma didn't want her to agonize over the possibility of losing another over an unfounded theory. And a good half of that decision was Emma's ego: _I didn't go through everything in Boston to get fucking taken out by an amateur up here._

First one week, then two: No hang-ups or tails. By the third, she figured whoever was following her was most likely just a perv who figured out they'd been noticed. Emma felt a pressing weight off her shoulders, an undercurrent of concern evaporating…until the night Henry and Regina went missing.

She was supposed to meet the pair for dinner at Legatos at six 'o clock; she even snuck out of work early to shower, do hair and a little makeup and, in a move she thought was utterly brilliant, dress in a skirt, blouse and heels.

The blonde sat at the bar waiting for her two loves. One drink turned into two - and four breadsticks. She checked her phone constantly, it was now 6:40 p.m. She swung by Mifflin and checked both floors. No one home or sign they had been. She texted Kathryn and Ruby - they hadn't heard or seen them. Increasingly worried, she drove over to Town Hall, which was locked up, the parking lot empty. She swung into the station.

"Evening, Don. Anything going on?"

"Nah, Chief, quiet night," came the nasal drone. "Ya look real pretty, though." He squinted. "That's not sexual harassment is it? I didn't mean it." Words rolled out, emotionless in his lone speed: slow. All she could think of was Petit's observation: "He's like that fuckin' turtle from Bugs Bunny."

"No, that's a compliment. Thank you. Humbert in?"

"On patrol. Want me to call him?"

She nodded, the dispatcher keying the mic. "Ah, Bravo-1, Delta-1 requesting 10-19."

"10-4. Bravo-1, 10-19. Two minutes."

Emma leaned against the edge of the dispatch desk, leg jackhammering in anticipation, when the officer returned.

"Everything OK?"

"I can't find the Mayor. Seen her car?"

"Are you looking for the Mayor or Regina?"

She could hear the smirk, but was unamused. "Very funny." Her voice was tight and a lump was stuck in her throat, arms crossed over her torso. She had a bad feeling. _Where the hell are they?_ Thoughts immediately sprung to her mystery tail. Fuck, no…no, you're being paranoid.

"We were supposed to meet for dinner – her, Henry and me - and they never showed at Legatos. Never called, I checked the house, Town Hall, nothing. She's not answering her cell. Checked with Ruby and Kathryn, nothing."

Green eyes had bypassed "concerned" and were nearing frantic. "What am I missing?"

Humbert rubbed his thin goatee and pursed his lips. He turned to Don, "See if Leroy can take a call."

The dispatcher did, the officer could and soon they were on the private line asking if he'd seen the Mercedes. He hadn't. "Call over to D," he grumbled, referring to the closet state police barracks.

"You know anyone?" Emma turned hopeful eyes to her officer.

"Coupla guys. Don't know if they're on."

"I know the dispatcher," Don interjected…slowly.

"Call, please."

Within 10 minutes an informal, back-channel BOLO was issued to troopers out of D barracks. Emma sat in her office worrying, unhappy she couldn't even reach Robert to talk her off the ledge. Forty-five minutes later, Emma's phone rang. When the ID read "State Police" her stomach dropped.

"Emma Swan."

"Emma, what's going on?" Regina's smooth, low tones simultaneously soothed and inflamed the chief.

"Where are you? Are you guys alright? Where have you been?" The questions spilled out in a panic.

"I'm on 17, just past Union. A trooper pulled me over and told me the Chief of Police of Storybrooke was looking for me," she snarked. "What's going on?"

"We were supposed to have dinner at Legatos and you guys never showed! Are you OK?"

"I'm fine. Henry wanted very specific party supplies and we couldn't find them in town. We went to the big party store in Augusta. And dinner is tomorrow night."

"No, it's tonight. Check your calendar."

"I can't, my phone's dead."

"What?"

"Henry was playing with it and it died in the middle of some game."

"You don't own a car charger?" A hand dragged through thick, yellow hair. "Dammit, Regina, you scared the hell out of me."

Regina could practically taste her girlfriend's frustration. Checking the side mirror, she spied an animated Henry smiling in the front seat of the trooper's patrol car, hands flying. "Darling, I…I'm sorry. I'm not used to having someone wonder where I am."

"I'm not asking you to check in, I—"

"No, I know. I understand," she soothed. "I will be more careful. This was all a big misunderstanding. I'm so sorry I scared you and that we missed dinner, which is tomorrow night, by the way."

"You didn't mean to, and dinner was _tonight_." Emma rubbed throbbing temples as nervous adrenaline began to wane. Everything is OK. They're OK. "I wore a skirt for you, Regina. _A skirt._ "

The mere image provoked Regina to suck in a quick breath. "Is there a way I can make this up to you?"

Lips twitched. "Get home quickly."

A few hours later, Emma snored lightly, her clothes – and that skirt - long abandoned to the floor of Regina's master bedroom. Regina checked her email one final time before lights out, then remembered: her calendar. She pulled it up to find the current evening blocked off starting at 6 p.m. with one notation: Legato's.

_Dammit._

XXXX

Regina waited outside Henry's classroom for dismissal, desperate to know how the morning program went, it was all Henry and Emma could talk about for a week. That's why as the children filed out, she was surprised to find her obviously upset son being led out by his teacher.

"Do you have a minute?"

"Of course. What happened?

"We don't know. We're studying community workers this month and the Chief came in today. Henry was thrilled."

"He certainly was when I dropped him off." Regina smiled, she knew how excited Emma was, too.

"We had a great program, the Chief was wonderful with the children. Henry was so proud." She laughed, "I can guarantee you every picture drawn over the next week will be of her."

Regina's heart warmed, she could only imagine. She was dying to go and see for herself but decided to let Emma and Henry have a special morning just for them.

"Henry was in a great mood, but about a half-hour after she left, I saw him upset in the book corner. He was on the verge of tears, but wouldn't tell me what was wrong."

Her heart clenched. "Thank you for letting me know. I'll find out what's wrong." Regina gathered Henry and tried to probe as gently as she could on the way to the sitter's house.

"Are you OK, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," came the clearly untrue reply.

"Anything you want to talk about? Anything happen at school?"

"No." Knowing she wouldn't get anywhere now, she let the subject drop and filled in Nicole. "Call me if you figure anything out."

She called Emma as soon as she was back in the car. "How was school?"

"Awesome," she chuckled, taking a break from paperwork. "The kids were so cute and I am a rock star. They asked the funniest questions. They want a K9 unit, by the way. We need to jam that into next year's budget."

Regina tittered. "How was Henry?"

"The proudest kid you ever saw, I thought he was going to burst."

"So he wasn't sad?"

"No. No way." Emma finally caught onto the tone of her girlfriend's voice. "Is something wrong?" She recounted her conversation with Miss Judy. "Huh, well, we can figure it out when we get home."

That night, Emma was barely through the door when Henry barreled into her, hugging her tight. "Buddy, what's up?"

"Nuffin."

"Uh, OK." Regina walked out from her office and welcomed her home with a kiss. "Hi." She followed Emma's eyes down to the crown of Henry's head. She shrugged, the message clear: _I have no idea, either._

"C'mere, Hen." They walked over to the couch. "What's wrong, pal?"

He raised his eyes to deny a problem once again, but now they were filled with tears. He broke down and sobbed. Emma scooped the child into her lap and followed with a hug. "Sssshhh," she whispered, rubbing his back. "I'm right here." Regina looked on, chest burning with empathy.

His small body wracked with sobs and gasps as he tried to calm down and regain a normal breathing pattern. Emma rubbed his back until he did. "Tell me what's wrong," she implored lovingly.

"Logan…." The tears started again, but he was able to rein them in quickly. "Logan said you're not my momma." He began to sob once more, Regina and Emma exchanging worried glances.

"What do you mean?" Regina asked measuredly.

"I said Cheef's my Cheef and he said she's not my momma. She's a Cheef, not a momma, not…not my momma." His face was so screwed up in distress it was physically painful for the women to witness.

"Well, he's kinda right, bud. You weren't in my tummy. You were in Momma's tummy. Yeah?"

Henry nodded, sniffing fiercely. "Yeah. Santa put me in Momma's tummy."

It took every ounce of control to not burst out laughing at the boy's statement. She hugged him to her chest and stared wide-eyed at her girlfriend over his shoulder. Regina's mouth hung open in a perfect o.

"Santa?" Emma mouthed, trying not to laugh. The brunette shrugged her shoulders.

Henry pulled away and looked up sadly. "So you're not my momma?"

Emma caught Regina's eyes and held them, silently communicating her intention. She didn't have to speak, Regina could tell where this was going. Tears began to pool as she nodded her approval.

"Hen…even though, even though you weren't in my tummy, I…" She swallowed. _This changes everything._ She looked over at Regina once more. The brunette smiled through the tears. "Even though you weren't in my tummy, in my heart, I feel like your momma."

Regina scooted closer, leaning her head on the blonde's shoulder and rubbing her back in support. "So, yeah, I am the Chief, but I feel like your Momma, too. Is that OK?"

Henry looked up in disbelief as Emma took his hand and placed it over her heart. "Do you feel that?" He nodded his head enthusiastically. "What do you feel?"

"Thump, thump, thump." A watery giggle followed.

"Well, yeah. But you're in there. There!" Emma moved his hand around, pretending to chase the emotion through her chest. "There you are! Wait, no…there!"

"So you'll be my Momma, too?"

Emma swallowed, a difficult task given the fact her throat felt about a quarter-inch wide. She thought she was going to make it through this without crying but that last tiny, innocent question did her in. A stray tear stained her shirt.

"Yes," she shuddered through a teary smile. "If you want."

"I do!"

Emma turned her head to Regina's tear-streaked face. "And you?" The brunette was too overwhelmed to speak. She squeezed Emma tightly. "Yes," she choked out.

"Why are we all crying?"

"We happy!"

"That's right, smart man." She nudged Regina. "Dinner started yet?"

"No," she sniffed, trying to bring the tidal wave of emotions under control, trying to wipe away tears without ruining her eyeliner. "I was just about to start when you walked in."

"How about I take my two favorite people in the world out to celebrate?"

"If we can clean up first." They were a hot mess, Regina's makeup was streaked despite her best efforts and both women's faces were red, puffy and blotchy.

"Definitely."

"Yay!"

Back to normal, Henry scampered off Emma's lap to find his shoes, only to halt and run back to the women. "Wait!" Regina had taken her son's place in Emma's lap, the two embracing. "What do I call you?"

Emma lifted her head out of the crook of Regina's neck. "What do you want to call me? You can still call me Chief if you want."

Henry bit his lip in thought. "Nah." He thought for a few seconds more. "I like 'Mom'." _I'm going to have a stroke,_ Emma mused. Emotions flared once again. She looked at Regina, who smiled her approval.

"OK," Emma replied shakily. _I'm a mom._ "Yeah, Mom. That's good."

Henry smiled impossibly wide. "I go get my shoes…Mom."

Regina cradled Emma's face and kissed her tenderly. "Congratulations, it's a boy."

XXXX

"So," Emma began, popping a scallop in her mouth, "What's up?"

Just as Robert predicted weeks earlier, Emma was contacted by Maine State Police Capt. Tim Slater. The pair met for lunch at the Quarterdeck on a slow Wednesday afternoon, watching boats glide out of Storybrooke Harbor. Temperatures were getting warmer, the earth threatening to turn from brown to green. In eight weeks, the waterfront and harbor would be teeming with tourists once more.

"First off, I gotta know, is that story about you and Dug's sister true?" Hazel eyes twinkled as he sipped a beer. "I'm a perv, I admit it."

Although she just met the man, Emma liked him right away. She narrowed her eyes and smirked at him across the table, eyeing his beefy torso - he was definitely too short for his current weight and had that muscle-head-gone-lazy look. _Can't out train your fork,_ she reminded herself. A jovial, wide, definitely Irish, face sat atop a thick neck, all topped off with the thin coating of red fuzz troopers favored. He looked like a fire hydrant stuffed into a golf shirt. Emma had a good sense when it came to sizing up people - especially cops - and she knew Slater was simpatico.

"A lady never kisses and tells."

"I heard it was more than that."

Emma shrugged her shoulders. "Ancient history. But, for the record, she came after me. Your turn: You went to college. With _Duggan_?"

"Barber or clown, right? Hard to believe he graduated kindergarten, let alone Suffolk."

"He's a good trooper - except the time I saw him get kicked in the nuts and taken out by some old grandma in Everett. Ask him about that. God, that was funny."

Emma sipped her beer, then set it on the paper placemat, a wet ring forming. "So, Tim, why am I here? This doesn't seem like a social call."

The just-merry face tightened, eyes darkening. "I want to give you a head's up, but you didn't hear this from me - right?" He leaned over the table, dropping his voice. "You seem like a good cop and I don't want you to get blind sided."

Emma nodded as she brought her fork to her mouth. Words were suddenly very hard to come by.

"Storybrooke is a major thoroughfare for meth."

Emma barked out a harsh laugh as she swallowed her bite; cops were notorious kidders and pranksters. She quickly sobered when she realized the man across from her was neither laughing nor smiling.

"Are you serious?" A chill ran down her spine as she returned her fork to her plate. Suddenly, she wasn't hungry.

"Yeah, let me explain." The trooper lowered his voice even further and began. "There's this family that lives in your town, name's Pine."

"Never heard of them."

"I'm not surprised, they've throttled back their mayhem quite a bit. They live out in the woods past Cross-Eyed Corner. Fucking white trash scumbags. The foulest, most disgusting lot of humans you ever did see."

"What the hell is a Cross-Eyed Corner?"

A rueful grin crossed Slater's ruddy face. "Right near the border between here and Rockport, sadly for you it's on your side. It's way out in the woods, I doubt you've ever been out that far. It's this fucked-up, dirt-road intersection where they all live. Those freaks have a house on each corner. There's Hiram, the father. He's got three sons and a daughter, probably all in their, what, 30s now? He had a fourth – Micah. He was the oldest, but fried his brain on angel dust and drove his snowmobile into a tree doing 90

Emma's head swam trying to parse the information.

"Was there a wife?"

"Yup. Eleanor, but Hiram made her go by 'Ruth.' Swallowed a shotgun about 10 years ago."

"What's with all the biblical names?"

"'Ol Hiram founded a religion, says they're a church – The Fellowship of the Righteous Redeemer - so they don't have to pay taxes, been fighting with the state over it for years."

The blonde head tilted. "You're fucking with me, right?"

"Anyway, if there's an illegal activity the Pines have tried it. They are frequent fliers in court and well-known to the state police, Fish & Game, Child Protective Services, you name it."

Slater took a pull off his beer and continued. "Rumor has it the family landed in town in the 1800s, too stupid to know their last name so they chose 'Pine' after all the goddamn trees. The Pines Hiram's age and older used to make moonshine and run liquor. Then they moved on to hijacking cigarette trucks at rest stops coming down from Canada. Then poaching, hunting off season, breaking into camps, summer homes. Four years ago, they busted Hiram and the kids for running a whorehouse out of one of the houses on the Corner. They pimped out sisters and nieces – Esther was the madam - and even brought girls down from Canada."

"That's disgusting."

"That's nothing. Rumor has it Hiram slept with Esther for years. She got knocked up and had a child who was fucked up."

"Handicapped?"

"Mentally. CPS went up there for a visit once and found the girl, musta been 12 by then, drinking gas. Once the whorehouse on the Corner was broken up, they moved the girls to a trailer out in the woods. We busted them there, then raided the compound and found enough guns to mount a war: machine guns, subs. They found a goddamn rocket launcher for Christ's sake. It was like Fallujah in the woods."

"Jesus. How is this guy not in jail?"

"He gets the kids to take the rap. Esther took the fall for the whorehouse, she's out now. Timothy is in Warren for the guns, I think. He shouldn't be out for another 5 or so years. Abe and Peter are still living on the Corner."

"Warren?"

"State Prison."

"What have they been up to lately?

"That's the thing – nothing high profile, the shit they're known for. Just before you arrived, one of the girls they whore out went on a grocery run and was pulled over on Rt. 1 for expired tags. Woman freaks out, hysterical crying, sayin' she'll get killed if her boss finds out she got pulled over. She mentions she works for the Pines, so we let her go. We arranged some bullshit problem with her food stamps so she had to come to Augusta several times to 'straighten it out.' We met with her and she spilled everything: they cook it in the woods, get it down to the docks, where their buyers dock a ship and take it down to New Bedford, Fall River. Said it's been going on for a couple of years; if they were making real money running drugs, that could explain why they dropped their rinky-dink shit."

Emma exhaled loudly as dread pooled in her chest.

"I hear you, so we pull in the DEA, they start poking around, building a case. Before Christmas, Coast Guard gets called in to help a vessel about 10 miles out, heading south – mechanical trouble. Everyone onboard is crazy jumpy, so the Coasties call ahead for us to meet them in Rockland when the tug brings it in. We turn it inside out and find a fuck ton of meth stashed in the cushions and bunk mattresses. They check the log and find the boat left from Storybrooke."

Emma swallowed. "Where do I come in?"

"Heh, that's the thing," he smiled. "You don't. This is just a professional courtesy on the down low from me to you. The bust is coming in a month: big shipment due out and the DEA and us will be there: They nab the drugs at the dock and we take down the Pines at their compound, all at once. I know how the Feds can be big-foot assholes on local PD. I wanted you warned beforehand. I know it's a lot to take in."

One thought fought its way through the haze: "Was Edgar in on this?"

"Oh, yeah. Woman says he was good at lookin' the other way while also holdin' out his hand. We're fixin' to grab him that night, too. What a fuckin' idiot - Sebago? Why not just move to Beverly Hills? We figure he'll start talkin' very quickly." The trooper paused, cocking his head at his suddenly pale lunch date. "You alright?"

"Alright?" Emma barked out a sick laugh, then leaned across the table to whisper. "You just told me there's a band of psychotic hillbilly fuckheads running unnoticed through my town and the former chief was in on it."

"Hey, it's not that bad," he assured. "The band of psychotic hillbilly fuckheads are one month from being put away pretty much forever. We figure we can roll the kids with him finally pinched. They're turn on him quick, too. No atheists in foxholes, ya know?"

Emma slumped in her chair, elbow on the table, head on her hand. "So my people and I, we just hang tight?"

"Yeah, and don't breathe a word of this to anyone. The DEA will be their usual asshole selves and contact you probably a few days beforehand as their 'professional courtesy.'" Slater curled his fingers around the last two words. "Pretend you never heard the name 'Pine.'"

Despite the fact no one was within 30 feet of them, Slater cast a quick glance over his shoulder.

"They think they're above the law and they will try to take down anyone who comes in their way. It's like…" He bit a lip in thought. "They're a mix of the Mob, the Taliban, the worst street gang you ever saw, all with a healthy dose of backwoods insanity thrown in. If the Feds called us and said there was a nuke on the loose in Maine, the first place I'd look is Cross-Eyed Corner."

"Tim, you're not helping."

"Hey," he defended, hands out. "I'm just tryin' to help, if it were me in your place, I'd wanna know."

"You're right, I'm just…I thought I left this shit behind, ya know."

"This shit's everywhere, kid. Welcome to the 21st century."

XXXX

Emma was suddenly on a mission to learn about all things Pine. She didn't intend to get involved - her force certainly wasn't equipped to deal with a threat of that magnitude - but getting educated certainly wouldn't hurt. While Martha went out on smoke breaks, Emma snuck old arrest records out of the storage room and began reading on the sly. She was disheartened to learn that Slater hadn't been exaggerating, their legal paper trail was collectively miles long: assault, battery, theft, breaking and entering, pandering - and those were just SPD charges. Dialing up court records, she discovered nearly all of the cases were dismissed long before court as witnesses failed to testify. _Add witness intimidation to the list._

It took a few days – and a lot of self talk - but eventually paranoia regarding the Pines began to fade. They had run their operation thus far quietly and without incident. The Feds and State Police were watching. This was the home stretch. _It will be OK._

That's what Emma thought, until the she received a package addressed to her at the station that included one item: a burner cell phone with an attached note:

**Turn this on and wait**

She squinted as she pressed the power button, praying the thing wasn't a fucking explosive. There was no big boom, just the color screen lighting, reception bars climbing. Emma stared at it as if it were radioactive, but reluctantly tucked it in her pocket when she left for the day - but not before shutting down the location tracking.

The small phone felt like it weighed 5 pounds as it sat in her pocket that night, through dinner with her family and bath time for Henry. She prayed it wouldn't ring in the house, how the hell would she explain it?

Emma tucked herself into Henry's bed, the boy's warm weight burrowed into her side. She read a story about fire trucks, Henry gleefully providing sound effects. It was the first time she smiled all day.

"Alright, man. Lights out." She leaned over, squishing his cheeks and kissing his forehead.

"Mom," he giggled through pursed lips, "stop!"

"Good night, sweetheart, love you." Regina's voice floated into the room before her. She stepped beside Emma and threaded her arm around the blonde's waist.

"Love you, Momma. Love you, Mom."

Emma nearly shivered, the title giving her a thrill every single time it was spoken.

"Love you, bud. Sleep tight."

The women walked into the hallway, Regina's brow furrowing the moment she caught Emma's gaze. "Are you alright? You don't look well."

"I don't feel well." It was the truth. "I think I'm going to go…" she was going to say "home" but she considered 108 Mifflin the definition. "…to the apartment. If I'm coming down with something I don't want to get you guys sick. OK?"

Regina frowned. Her girlfriend had been out of sorts all night: quiet, distracted, and not at all handsy. Something was off. "I suppose."

After tucking an errant piece of black hair behind an ear, Emma leaned in and held her girlfriend tight. "I love you so much."

Emma was on her couch watching a Celtics game an hour later when the foreign phone rang, a tone so unexpected and loud the blonde startled, heart rocketing into her throat.

She let it ring twice before she picked it up and pressed Talk.

"Emma Swan."

"Chief Swan?"

"Yeah?"

"This is Ezra Lincoln. We need to talk."

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to set your mind at ease: the ALICE drill scene was written as a way to see Emma and Kathryn working together in a professional setting – a dynamic I wanted to explore. Sadly it's also a reflection of the very real drill teachers and students have to endure in many U.S. schools today, even in very small towns. It is not foreshadowing a school shooting. Thank you so much for your continued support and kind words.


	17. Chapter 17

Veteran cops do not gasp, but Emma Swan came very, very close.

“Talk about what?”

She desperately tried to remember her training, affecting a mix of annoyed curiosity. She couldn’t be too eager to arouse his suspicion nor could she be too angry to cause him to hang up. She had to be good cop and bad cop - and somehow read him over the phone without any visual cues - all while fireworks exploded in her head. _Ezra Fucking Lincoln? Now? Why?_

“Do you know who I am?” His tone was confident, but not arrogant, Emma thought. He didn’t sound angry or threatening.

“I do.”

“Then you know why I’m calling.” The definitely native voice faltered ever so slightly on “why.” It was a tiny, minuscule waver, one a person would not notice if she hadn’t been listening to every syllable with the intensity Emma was. _OK._

“Not really, Ezra. From what I hear that’s ancient history.” _Use his first name, sound slightly disinterested._ Emma mentally ticked off the techniques in her head. “What else is there to say?”

“A lot.”

She blew out an impatient breath. “Listen, man, we can go round and round all night. Why is this worth my time?”

“I can’t talk over the phone.”

“Uh, yeah you can, you sent it to me. You know I couldn’t have wired it up this quick, I don’t have the equipment.” That was true. _Time for more truth, get him to trust me._ “I’m sitting in my apartment, drinking a scotch, watching the Celts get pounded by the Spurs, talking on a burner phone that arrived. From you. Today. Give me a little to go on, man. You know everything about me, I know shit about you or what this is all about.” _Time for a little gas._ “Start talkin’ or I’m tossing this phone in the harbor tomorrow.”

“I want to talk about the Gendreau case, what really happened.”

“So you didn’t, what, destroy the scene?” She tried to sound like she didn’t know every detail by heart.

“I did, but it was on purpose.”

 _The fuck?_ “Why?”

“I was told to.”

Fuck. “Alright, now we’re talking, Ezra.” _Reassuring, encouraging._ “Why and who told you to?”

“I won’t talk over the phone.”

“Again, this is your phone. Why all the security?”

“I want to tell you in person.”

“That’s a big leap of faith on my end. I don’t know you, how do I know you’re not setting me up? That this isn’t a trap.”

“A trap for what?”

“You tell me.”

Now it was Ezra’s turn to be irritated. “I’m going to give you information that will put me in jail. I’ve been in hiding for years. I need to be careful. Why would I harm you?”

“Is someone threatening you?”

“It would be worse than that if anyone found out I talked to you.”

A dozen questions exploded in Emma’s brain all at once. “Wait…” Two dots suddenly connected via a dashed line. “Have you been following me? Hanging up and shit?”

“The hang ups were me. I wanted to talk to you but chickened out.”

“What about the black car?”

“That was my girlfriend. I can’t go back into town but I thought she could sneak in early morning, try to get you alone, convince you I was for real.”

“OK. But, why now? It’s been, like, four years. Why come clean now?”

Silence hung on the end of the line, the only noise the hiss of a poor cell phone connection. She could hear breathing, but no words ushered forth. “Ezra?”

A quick exhale. _OK, he’s still alive._ “Because the guilt is killing me. I can’t take it anymore.” He sounded dejected. It sounded true.

“Alright, when do you want to meet?”

XXXX

The second Emma got off the phone with Lincoln, she texted Slater. It was late, this was important, but it wasn’t something that couldn’t wait. Rousing the captain out of bed wouldn’t answer any questions quicker. However, her phone rang nearly immediately.

“What’s up?”

“Remember a case a few years ago, the Mayor’s husband was found dead in the woods?”

“Which Mayor?”

“ _Our_ Mayor, here in Storybrooke. Regina Mills.”

“Ohhh…the smoke show? Yeah, how could I forget her? She still gorgeous?”

“And how.”

“Bet you wish you had some of that.” A dirty chuckle resounded.

“Wishing’s for suckers. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Get the fuck out.”

“Swear to God.”

“You fuckin’ dog!”

“Whatever, anyway, you remember the case?”

“Yeah, the guy who got his head bashed-in in the woods. That dumb fucking Barney Fife asshole walked all over the scene.”

“Ezra Lincoln, know anything about him?”

“Other than he got fired? No.”

“He left town right after. Now’s he’s back. Sorta.”

Emma recounted the whole tale from hang-ups at the station to the phone sitting on her lap, still on. “Is he part of your case?”

“No. I hadn’t even thought of him until you brought it up. I’ll double check with the ASAC, but I don’t think this op’s connected to that murder. Unless you just discovered it is.” He couldn’t help but laugh. “You foul hooked a cold case? Un-fucking-believable. You’re a friggin’ force of nature. What do you do for an encore, cure cancer?”

“Laugh it up, dummy. Listen, I don’t know what this is, he wouldn’t tell me, just said to meet him at the Maine Mall day after tomorrow to talk.” She shook her head: _It had to be Saturday?_ “You’re telling me this is coincidental?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“So what the hell do I do now?”

“Meet him, but don’t let on you know anything about the Pines, Edgar, drugs, nothing. Let’s see what he has to say.”

Slater checked in the next day: Lincoln was not part of the DEA investigation. He also double checked the state police file on the Gendreau case: nothing out of the ordinary other than “gross incompetence on the part of a law enforcement official.” Short of evidence, the case was left open as “suspected homicide.”

“‘Suspected’ my white Irish ass,” Slater snorted. “Did that poor guy bash his own head in? That’s like saying someone with three holes in his temple committed suicide.”

“Hey, while I’ve got you, check one more thing.” Emma hit Send and emailed the trooper the police report on Regina’s parents. Keyboard keys tapped over the line like Morse Code.

“I remember this one, too. Shit, Storybrooke was a fucking hotbed of danger a while back, eh?” More clicking and tapping and…chewing.

“What the hell are you eating?”

“Pistachios, they’re like crack. Right, nah, this one’s legit. I remember we impounded the car just in case - our guys checked it out, county sheriff did, too. Bad roads that night, was the middle of winter. This was a straight-up accident. No one cut the brakes or fucked with the power steering, anything like that. Tox screens on both victims came back clean.”

Emma spent the rest of the day in her office recalling her conversation with Ezra and her follow up with Slater, including plans for the following day. She ran the discussions through her head over and over, pissed at Lincoln for his timing, which was terrible for Emma professionally and personally. The man had possibly stumbled into a federal drug investigation and definitely threw a monkey wrench into the biggest weekend of her life. _It had to be tomorrow? Fuck me._

The phone rang, interrupting her anxious musings. Emma smiled at the name on her phone that overlaid her lock screen - a selfie of Emma and Regina smooshing their cheeks against Henry’s. Just seeing Regina’s name eased her mind.

“Hey,” she breathed.

“Hi.” Emma could practically hear the bright smile, but the tone quickly changed. “Are you alright, you sound tired.”

“I am, didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Are you feeling better today? I hated letting you go last night, Thursdays are my night, after all.”

A rush of warmth flooded Emma’s chest at the loving, playful, possessive statement. “I’ll feel much better when it’s 5:15 and I’m at your front door hugging you.”

A giggle chimed in Emma’s ear. “Emma Swan, you are such a romantic.”

 _You have no idea._ “You bring it out in me…and I know you’re blushing right now.”

Already bright, Regina’s cheeks flushed even deeper. “I don’t know how much time we have for romance this weekend, love. Our son has us on a very strict schedule.”

“That is true.”

“Oh, the swing set people called, they’ll be at the house at one o’clock tomorrow. They said installation should be done by three. How are we going to get him out of the house?”

“Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

XXXX

Later that day at shift change, Emma heard her second-shift dispatcher’s trademark drone as he greeted the staff. “Evenin’ people.” It was, technically, 3:55 p.m., but in “Choo Choo time” as Petit called it, that was “evenin’.”

“Martha,” she called out her door. “Got 5 minutes?”

The woman walked in, settling her permanently unamused face in the visitor’s chair. “Yeah?”

Bending forward, the chief lowered her voice: “What can you tell me about Ezra Lincoln?”

Emma thought Martha had the best poker face she had ever seen. The woman never rattled, although in Storybrooke “rattled” was relative. Regardless, she never flinched, until now. Her brow lifted a touch, lips parted slightly, pure reaction. This was not an expected question.

“Why are you asking?” came the even response.

“You know I’m…with Regina. I know about her husband’s murder and I was curious about how everything played out.” She shook her head slowly. “I read his jacket. I can’t understand how a capable, veteran officer could make such a mistake.”

Martha exhaled slowly, then stood. “I need a smoke for this. You comin’?”

They exited out the back of the building into a tiny courtyard, gated and invisible from the street, dominated by an old picnic table and a tall, thin, outdoor ashtray. The air was fresh and damp, Emma could nearly taste spring, until the acrid arrival of tobacco smoke turned her head.

“How long ago’d you quit?” Martha sat, blowing a long stream of smoke out the side of her mouth as a courtesy.

“How’d you know?”

“You got that look.”

Emma bit her lip. “Almost a year ago, just before I came up here.”

“Good for you,” she noted, tapping a long stretch of ash onto the ground. “So, Ezra was a good cop, decent guy.” She looked over her shoulder to ensure they were alone. “I liked him.”

“No suspicious behavior? Drinking, drugs, money trouble?”

“Not that I heard and I woulda.”

“Married?”

“Girlfriend, worked over at the IGA. She packed up and left with him right after. He never said good-bye to no one, just left.”

Emma shrugged. “Heard from him since? Has he ever been back?”

A low chuckle turned into a watery cough. “Goddamn chest cold.” She thumped her sternum with the end of a closed fist. _And two packs of Camel straights a day,_ Emma thought. “Nope. No one has.”

“Any theories on what happened at the scene? He coulda been hungover? High?” Martha narrowed her gaze then slowly stood. Taking a final drag on the cigarette, she dropped the butt into the neck of the ashtray.

“You know better than that.” The dispatcher’s tone was almost disappointed. “Theories are like assholes, everyone’s got one.” Emma’s mind jolted, she never heard the woman swear before. In fact, this was the longest conversation they’d ever had - and that included her year-end review. “It’s all about facts - and the fact is that man messed up that crime scene and I doubt it ain’t ever gonna get solved. And that’s a shame. The whole thing was a shame - the man’s death, Ezra’s whatever-the-hell he did. It’s all a damn shame.”

Emma caught the woman’s eyes and Martha held her gaze. The older woman stood tall, back straight, head high. Emma was left with one conclusion: She was telling the truth, she had no doubt.

“That NCIS is doin’ you good, Martha, thanks.”

“Ah, well, Gibbs is more than just a pretty face, that’s for sure. Your boy’s birthday this weekend?”

Emma’s face instinctively softened at the mere mention of Henry. “Tomorrow.”

“What’d you get him?”

“Swing set.”

She nodded her approval and headed for the door. “Good. Good job. See ya Monday.”

XXXX

The next morning, Emma sat in a silver Prius in the parking lot of The Maine Mall, twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger and wishing to God she had a cigarette. She never craved another puff since she pulled off her last patch, a fact she credited to leaving the stress of her old job 180 miles south. But dammit she was willing to break the streak immediately: the smoke from Martha’s cigarette combining with the stress of the two dichotomous impending events of the day was almost enough to get her to light up. If she didn’t plan to have her tongue in Regina’s mouth all night she’d take a blow torch to a carton of Newports and get down to business right away.

It had been quite the whirlwind trip, figuratively speaking, and her head was still spinning. The whole affair, from the moment that damn red-headed trooper met her, was a hot mess. _Fuckin’ Duggan._

She awoke that morning, big spoon, face buried in black hair, smelling Regina’s warm, soft skin and a fragrance she come to associate with one word: home. It had been a fitful night’s sleep, but Regina’s sleeping presence was enough to help her eventually string together a few solid hours. Even just listening to the woman’s steady, soft breaths was enough to slow her spinning mind. And, miraculously, they were alone - the birthday boy opting not to make a midnight invasion, leaving Emma pressed up against a trim frame, no toddler size 10 foot jammed in her ribs. Long fingers ran over a hip, dragging slowly over soft cotton before hooking under the waistband.

“Mmmm…” A low hum of approval sounded. “May I help you?”

“Hmmm?” Emma tried to sound disinterested as she began running her palms slowly over her girlfriend’s perfect ass. “I don’t know, can you?”

A husky chuckle sounded as Regina rolled over in Emma’s arms and moved the questing hand from her ass down into the front of her pajama pants. “I know I can.”

Emma moaned at her predicament, hand squeezed into a warm, wet and wonderful place. Small sighs soon became whimpers as Emma’s fingers began to slip and slide. Unhappy with the position, Regina held her lover’s wrist in place and moved to straddle the blonde’s hips, rolling hers against Emma’s questing fingers. She leaned forward, one hand on the mattress for leverage, the other cupping the back of a blonde head as she leaned in and picked up the pace.

“You…” she husked in between pants, a small cry erupting when Emma’s thumb began to stroke her clit in rhythm, pushing her over the edge, statement unfinished.

Two hours later, pep in her step, Emma met Slater at his house to swap vehicles. “Yours is as bright as a friggin’ clown car. If the guy wants to do this on the down low, blend into the Saturday mall crowd, your car is the last thing he’s gonna step into.”

“I can’t help but feel you’re getting the better end of this.” Emma stood and cast a disgusted glance at the vehicle before her. “I’m leaving my car with you and I’m taking this goddamn…” she waved a hand disdainfully, “overgrown bumper car down to Portland?” Emma looked at the Prius, screwing up her face as if it emitted a stench. “What kind of cop drives this pussy car?”

Slater chuckled. “It’s my wife’s and I know you won’t scratch it.”

“Scratch it? Probably goes 3 miles an hour. Jesus. And you better not pull any Ferris Bueller shit while I’m gone. I wrote down the mileage.”

“I am _tearing ass_ up to Orono in this motherfucker, baby. See you tomorrow.”

“I mean it, I got shit to do. My son’s birthday party is tomorrow. I gotta get home and help.”

“You have a kid? Why didn’t I know this?”

“I do and you suck as a cop? I don’t know.”

“Is he down in Mass?”

“No, up here.”

“What’s the Mayor think?”

“I suspect she’s OK with him - she’s his mother.”

Emma’s jolted, returned to the present, when the phone on the passenger seat rang.

“Emma Swan.”

“You here?”

“Right where you said, E31. Silver Prius.”

“Alright, ah’ll be in the black car,” the final r as flat as a three-day-old glass of warm Coke.

 _Ah-ha._ Emma watched the car that she had spotted in town pull up beside her. At the edge of a quickly filling lot, they’d attract no attention. A woman, the girlfriend Emma assumed, was driving. A tall, reed-thin man unfurled himself out of the passenger seat. She recognized him from his file at the station. Even through the University of Maine’s signature block M baseball hat, she could tell his hair had gone mostly grey, though still cut short. He wore what seemed to be the state uniform for Maine males: blue Dickies pants, work boots and a flannel shirt over a white crop-necked T.

Ezra slowly made his way into the passenger seat of the Prius, a wave of cigarette smoke and Old Spice announcing his presence. She watched over his shoulder as his girlfriend eyed every move.

“She stayin’?”

“Any problem with that?”

“None other than she looks like she wants to brain me with a tire iron.”

“No tape, right? I’m leaving if you’re wired.”

Emma shucked her brown leather jacket to reveal a long-sleeved Henley. She pushed up the sleeves, then pulled down the collar. She turned around and lifted up the bottom of the shirt right to the edge of her bra. “You can frisk me if you want.”

He leaned over and fished a hand under the driver’s seat, then his own. After checking the back seat, he sat back down satisfied and nodded.

“Alright man, talk.”

He did. Staying silent, Emma let him roll, knowing that when faced with silence in a conversation, a person wants nothing more than to fill it. The tone was calm and even, but his body betrayed his contrition: shoulders slumped, face drawn, words tumbling out in a steady stream. She watched his blue-grey eyes; set close to his prominent nose, they looked tired and old, a shocking fact given he was only 46. He looked like he aged in dog years.

Ten minutes passed. “…and that’s it.”

Swallowing, Emma wished she had thought to bring a bottle of water. Her throat was bone dry; it felt like she’d been holding her breath the whole time.

Lips pursed in thought. “Let me make sure I understand. You’re at the station, Edgar comes out of his office, tells you to come with. You guys get to the scene and he tells you to step over boot prints and drive your cruiser over the tire tracks. Then he informs you you’re going to take the hit for screwing up the scene. You went along with this, why?”

“Edgar was on the phone and told me there were guys at my apartment who would walk in and kill Diane if I didn’t.”

“How’d you know they weren’t bluffing?”

The man seemed to pale a shade at the memory. “They told Edgar what she was wearing. They knocked on the door asking for me, she answered and said I wasn’t there. Wasn’t a bluff, it was what she was wearing when I left for work.”

He continued, shifting from scared to angry. “Edgar said if I didn’t do it, he’d give them the go-ahead right there and she’d be dead by the time I got home.” He shook his head slowly. “I’ll never forget. He looked at me, cold and hard, and said, ‘Ezra, it’s for the greater good.’”

“Not yours.”

“No shit.”

Emma snuck a peek past Ezra at Diane, still glaring away. “But why cover it up? Did Edgar kill Gendreau?”

“I don’t think he did. He’s a lot of things but killer is not one of them. He’s too lazy. He was wicked rattled as we drove out to the scene; it was way in the woods. Pretty sure it was the first time he saw it. He got on his phone and was talking to someone on the other end.”

“Who do you think killed Gendreau?”

“Whoever was on the other end of that call.”

“Got a theory?”

“Coulda been a freak incident with someone from out of town.”

“Anyone local?”

“Likely suspects? Any of the Pines.”

 _Fuck me._ She tried to act dumb. “That family that lives near the border? Why?”

“Maybe they were out there doin’ something they couldn’t and that poor guy stumbled across ’em. They’re always out in the woods up to no good. Who knows? Whatever, they’re flat-out insane, I wouldn’t put it past them.”

“You think Edgar was on the take, workin’ with whoever killed the guy?”

“Coulda been. I never suspected it, but he is an asshole so I wouldn’t be surprised. Could been under someone’s thumb.”

“Alright. Why now? Why come to me with this now? It’s been four years, this case would never be solved. Why come clean?”

He paused, rubbing his hands across his face. “For years, I was scared. Then I felt guilty. Then I heard Edgar retired, bought this giant-ass house on the lake, and I got mad. That asshole, he didn’t kill the guy but he helped whoever did get away with it. He retires like a good guy hero, and Diane and I are, like, banished. I was pissed, wanted to get him back, make him pay.”

“But you’ll pay, too.”

“I know. See, Diane and I keep tabs on what’s goin’ on in town. We still have a lot of family there, though no one really talks to us anymore. Can’t go back, so we read the paper online once in a while. The other thing was I saw that picture of your swearing in, and the Mayor and her son. That kid, he got to me. I tried to get him out of my head but I couldn’t. All I could think of was how he was growing up without his Dad because of me.”

“You didn’t kill Gendreau.”

“But I stood in the way of justice, or whatever. The guilt is killing me. My father ran out on my mother when I was a kid, I grew up without one and it sucked.”

Emma cocked her head. “Wait, you said you can’t go back to town, why?”

“The day I was ‘terminated,’” he spat the word like a curse, “Edgar hands me a paper bag and says not to open it until I’m gone. Says I need to leave within 24 hours or Diane and I will be killed. And to never step foot in town again.”

“Was he threatening you?”

“Nah, it was, like, matter of fact. Like, ‘The Sox win last night?’ ‘Yeah, and if you’re seen in town again you’ll be killed.’ Considering a man had just been murdered and they were ready to take out Diane if I didn’t go along, I wasn’t questioning it.”

“What was in the bag?”

“$25,000 in cash. We took the money, stuffed whatever we could fit in our cars and left. I wasn’t hanging around.” Silence hung in the car for half a minute as they pair processed what just went down. “So what now?”

Exhaling, she lifted her chin from the fist on which it had been resting. _That’s the million-dollar question._ However, she and Slater had devised a plan.

“You guys follow me to Augusta, we hook you up with a DA, give a sworn statement and we get you in PC until we get Edgar and get this straightened out. You’re gonna do time, but I think the fact you came forward should knock your bid down.”

“We can’t come today.”

“Why not?”

“Cause I’m gonna get arrested and Diane will get jammed into PC; we gotta straighten stuff out first.”

A thought crossed her mind. “God, you guys don’t have kids, do you?”

“Nah, but we got two dogs. She’ll want them with her. Plus she’ll want to pack, get her stuff. I gotta prepare her for a life without me…for a while. Get her set up.”

“An officer can go with her after—”

“No.” The answer was firm and clear, the first time the man even remotely raised his voice. “We do it my way. I know what I’m doing. We’ll meet you in Augusta Monday morning.” He leaned in, his words soft. “I know how to stay lost, been doin’ it for years now. This is my last couple of days with her for a long time. She’s a good woman, she doesn’t deserve this. Let us have the weekend…please.”

“I don’t like this,” Emma frowned. “At all. But you’ve been straight with me so far, so…alright. Keep the phone on. I’ll keep this on. Call me if you change your mind and want to come in early.”

He nodded, resigned. “Deal.” Reaching into his breast pocket, he tapped two cigarettes out of a pack, placing one in his mouth as he pulled the door handle and started to exit. A rush of cool, spring air flooded the front seat. He leaned back in and tossed the second into Emma’s lap. “Looks like you could use this.” The unlit butt wiggled between his lips as he spoke. “See ya Monday.”

Emma tucked the cigarette into the inside pocket of her jacket, watching Ezra climb back into the black Toyota as Diane glared away in finale. When the car pulled away, swallowed back into a steady stream of weekend mall traffic, she scrambled for a pen and quickly wrote down the tag.

Spotting the clock on the dash, she swore. _Shit._ It was time to go. She needed to return this tin can to Slater, grab her car and get home. It was time to propose to Regina.

XXXX

Emma and Regina stood side by side at the playground by the harbor where they all unofficially began. Henry ran, jumped, swung and climbed all over the playground castle and any other piece of equipment he could find as if it were a timed event to touch every surface as quickly as possible. It was an opportune diversion, one they needed as the boy’s birthday present was being assembled in his backyard at that very moment.

She had been stuck for a birthday present for her new son, but as she drove through a neighborhood one afternoon and spied a gaggle of kids playing on a wooden backyard swing set Emma knew that was the perfect gift. Once she noticed the structure, she saw them in seemingly every family’s backyard - except Regina’s.

_“It’s too expensive,” the brunette argued one night in bed._

_“But, you know, I’ve missed all his Christmases and birthdays except one. Can’t I catch up?”_

_“I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I?” She tried to glare at her lover but it was impossible. She could do nothing but smile._

_“Oooh, you’re such a hard ass,” Emma teased._

“And we’re having a playground installed in my backyard why, exactly?”

Emma’s eyes never shifted from non-stop Henry, yet she could hear the smirk in her girlfriend’s sultry, low voice. “Because we don’t have to drive here. How many times have we been here since I pulled up all hot and smokin’ last summer, when you turned and glared at me? None.”

Regina giggled. “I _did_ think you were some overcompensating mid-life crisis on wheels.”

“And you found me to be…”

“Wearing incredibly short shorts.”

“I _love_ those shorts. Gotta pull ’em out this summer, tempt you again, you hot thing.” Emma warmed at the mere thought and felt Regina’s long fingers intertwine with hers. “But back to Hen, think about how tired all this playing will make him. Which may make him sleep longer and deeper…”

Turning her head, Regina found a devilish glint in Emma’s eye. “It always comes back to sex with you, doesn’t it?”

“I fail to see how that is a bad thing, sweetheart.”

Emma relished the feel of Regina’s hand in her own and was amazed at how bizarre this day had become. When the topic of Henry’s birthday was first broached a month earlier, she immediately realized it would be the perfect time to propose. She had been thinking about it for weeks, wondering if it was too much, too soon. Her conclusion: _Fuck it, I know what I want and I’m pretty sure she wants it, too._

The ring had been picked out, purchased and already in her possession when Ezra Lincoln and his shitty timing teetered into her life. Of course he wanted to meet the morning of Henry’s birthday/the day she intended to land Regina as her wife. Of course. But, given the circumstances, the stakes - and the anxiety stampeding around her gut - Emma had no choice but to agree. She would give Regina a ring today and, perhaps soon, some closure on the most painful event of her life.

Emma hated keeping the news from Regina; she left early that morning claiming she was doing an off-the-clock favor for another police department - technically true, she justified. All the way down to Portland, she argued her case in her head: _What could I tell her, anyway? I don’t know anything yet…This would just wreck Henry’s birthday for her…This will be one of the best days of her life, don’t ruin it…You can deliver all the details when you know them._

She grabbed Regina’s hand and kissed it, checking her phone with the other hand. “What time do we need to be back?”

“By 3.”

_Alright, Swan, any time now._

“Your birthday is next,” Regina informed.

“It’s in _July_.”

“Yes, but you know Henry, birthdays are never too far away to think about - for any of us.”

 _Bingo_. A quick scan of the playground ensured they were alone. She really didn’t want an audience for this.

Regina watched Henry pull himself up a sloped incline via a rope ladder, face scrunched up in exertion. Emma was right, they hadn’t been back here since they first met. She smiled, picturing the boy’s reaction to the playground being built in her backyard: swings, climbing wall, slide, elevated fort. _He will die,_ she thought gleefully. She turned to play “What do you think Henry will say when he sees it?” with Emma, only to find her girlfriend dropped to the ground on one knee.

“I’d like my present now.” Reaching up, she took Regina’s hands in hers.

“Oh my God.” Regina pulled back her hands and covered her mouth. She could feel moisture welling in her eyes. “Emma.” It was a question, statement, exclamation and realization all in one short word.

“Give me at least one of those, huh?”

“You—” She removed one hand, allowing it to be cradled in Emma’s two.

“Wait, let me…let me get through this. I’ve thought about it a lot and I’m only going to do it once, so please let me do it right.”

Blowing out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, she began: “I moved to Maine and I did the one thing I never thought I’d do. I fell in love…”

Regina smiled through threatening tears.

“…with a boy.”

Uncontrolled laughter gushed from above.

“This little, amazing _boy_ of all things charmed his way into my life. I wasn’t looking for it, certainly didn’t expect it, and then all of a sudden I realized I loved him back.

“Then, lucky for me, he happened to belong to this smart, caring, incredible person, who also happened to be the most stunningly gorgeous creature I’d ever spied in my life. And then I got to know this woman. We became friends…” Her voice trailed off, throat choked with emotion. She dipped her head.

“Darling, I—”

One hand raised requesting she pause.

“..and then I realized I could never, ever live without them again.” The words were weak and watery, but Regina heard every single syllable and sent her other hand into Emma’s grasp. Long fingers stroked their counterparts in reassurance. “You are the answer to a question I never knew how to ask.” Emma sucked in a shallow breath, sincerely hoping Regina said yes and that after her new fiancée would then drive her to the ER because she was surely having a heart attack. She could hear the blood thrumming in her head, heart pounding. Her face felt hot, she was certain it was bright red.

“I know we haven’t been together that long, but I know what feels right. And I know I can’t live without you and Henry. I…”

A stray tear broke over her lower eyelid. _Dammit_. She was so close to making it through without tearing up like a loser.

“I want to be with you forever. I would be so honored if you would be my wife.” Emma’s head bobbed at the gravity of the statement. “Regina, will you marry me?”

The brunette looked down smiling, eyes crumpled at the corners as wide, green pleading ones stared back. “Emma Swan…” she hesitated, shocked at how shaky her voice sounded. “I would love to marry you.” She closed her eyes and exhaled with a shuddering breath. _This felt so right._ “I would love to be your wife.”

All the air seemingly left Emma’s lungs in a rush as she vaulted off her knee and into Regina’s arms. A frisson of excitement raced down her spine as Regina uttered the last two words. They clung to each other, soft, loving kisses shared in between sniffs and giggles. Emma cradled Regina’s face in her hands as she first pecked a nose, two eyelids then, finally, a forehead. They stood forehead to forehead, eyes closed, reveling in the moment of peaceful, utter bliss.

The pair swayed back and forth simply holding each other. Regina’s head lay on Emma’s shoulder as she stroked sleek, black hair. _My wife._ Realization jolted Emma out of the embrace.

“Oh my God, I almost forgot.” She laughed at herself, that was a damn expensive oversight. Regina looked up squinting, then tilted her head. “Your left hand, please.”

A gently trembling hand was extended, Emma grabbing it with her left while her right fished the diamond out of the pocket of her tight jeans. A 1-carat princess cut, flanked by aquamarine side stones, the ring slid on easily, perhaps a half-size too big, but it would do for now.

Regina stared at her finger, mouth agape. “Oh, Emma, I…Are those—”

“Henry’s birthstone, yeah. Is it OK? I’ve never, you know, bought one.”

“It’s…it’s too much.”

“You don’t like it?” Regina thought her heart would break as she watched Emma’s face seemingly collapse around the words.

“No, I love it. I…this is…my God, it’s too expensive.”

Emma’s laughter was loud, so loud, it jolted Regina slightly and caught Henry’s attention. “Don’t you worry.” She tugged Regina into a fierce embrace and pressed her lips to the shell of her ear. “My job is to give you the best, brightest, happiest life I can. That’s all I want to do.”

“And what about you?”

“My life will automatically be the best because I have you and…” she gasped at what she was about to say, it was so seminal, so true, “…our son.” She felt the words in her heart. They were true.

The women withdrew from their embrace, sniffing and smiling, to find Henry staring up at them quizzically.

“Henry, sweetie: Mom and I are getting married.”

“OK,” he answered, unimpressed. “Can we get a donut on the way home?”

XXXX

If Emma Swan ever awoke on a more perfect Sunday morning, it had been so completely supplanted by the current one the runner-up completely faded from her memory. A warm weight enveloped her from behind, one arm flung around her torso, a shiny ring sparkling on the hand. She was bookended on her front by a second smaller body, making her the de facto filling in a Mills sandwich.

“Mom.” A small finger poked her on the cheek. She pulled him close, hugging the child to her breast.

“Sleep, Hen. Go back to sleep.”

Poke. Poke. Poke. “Mom.” The stage whisper was urgent. “Let’s go out and play on the swing set!”

She couldn’t help but smile. The look on Henry’s face when they walked him out the back door the day before was priceless. She had never seen such unadulterated, pure joy in person. _If this is one of the benefits of motherhood,_ she thought, _sign me up forever._

“It’s so early, bud. Mom’s tired.” And she should be, given she and her betrothed were up most of the night celebrating in a very intimate way.

“I wanna go plaaaaaay.”

“This is your fault,” came the sleepy reprimand from behind. “This was your idea.”

“Wow. Not even a 24-hour grace period from my new fiancée.” The word sent a thrill through her chest. “I am so disappointed in you, future Mrs. Swan.” She tried to sound upset but failed completely, a stupid smile still plastered on her face from the moment Regina said “yes.”

Emma turned to face the brunette, kissing her sweetly. “We _should_ get up,” Regina noted. “We have a birthday party to throw and an engagement to announce.”

“This is gonna be one hell of a party.”

“Momma! Mom!” Frustrated, Henry crawled over Emma and wedged himself in between the women. “No more kissing! Swings!”

Several hours later, Emma watched her first hosted kid birthday party wind down a success, if one defined success as a deliriously happy child and his cadre of over sugared, hyperactive friends scaling a swing set like ants on a cookie.

Ruby passed the last parent heading out as she arrived to pick up Hunter, Kathryn walking into the backyard 5 minutes later.

“You guys want to stay for dinner? We have tons of leftover pizza.”

“I’ll never say no to pizza,” Ruby noted, grabbing an offered beer from Emma.

“Moooom!” Hunter yelled, dangling out of the clubhouse over the slide. “Watch me!”

Kathryn took the seat to her right, the trio enjoying the nonstop activity from the new play area. “I always assume you’re feeding me.” She turned toward the backdoor and yelled: “Regina, got a gin and tonic with my name on it?”

“Auntie Kat, watch me!”

“That’s a hell of a swing set. What are you going to buy him for Christmas, a car?”

“Hey, I missed all his birthdays and Christmases…”

“You missed all of mine, too, and I don’t recall you hooking me up.”

Henry caught Emma’s eye and followed suit: “Mom! Watch me!”

The boy scrambled up the rock wall expecting an audience, but two of the women in the back yard were gaping at the third. Kathryn lifted an eyebrow. “Mom?”

“Wow,” Ruby added, shocked. It was all she could offer.

“No, he asked…” she swallowed thickly, still getting choked up thinking about that evening. “He asked me to be his mom.”

“When was this?”

“Few weeks ago.”

Ruby smiled. “Congratulations, how does it feel?”

“Amazing.”

“Pfft, obviously he was just setting you up to land a swing set.”

Emma chuckled darkly, her voice low. “Fuck off, you loser.”

“Do I even want to know what’s going on?” Regina walked up behind the cluster of lawn chairs and leaned over, bussing Emma on the cheek.

“You two are gonna give me diabetes, Jesus.”

“And good afternoon to you, dear. Your drink.” Regina handed over the glass, the large ring on her catching the light of the afternoon spring sun.

“Holy fucking shit!”

Ruby squealed, unable to even form a syllable.

“You’re…”

Regina sat across Emma’s lap and smiled. “Engaged, yes.”

“I’m so happy for you!” The waitress bounded out of her chair and hugged the pair as one.

Regina eyed her best friend for a response: “Well?”

Uncharacteristically, Kathryn had nothing to say. Eyes wide, she opened her mouth to speak, but no words ushered forth. She took a sip of her drink and dipped her head. A lump began to grow in her throat as she thought of her friend: the striving, shy child of an overbearing mother; the finally triumphant bride; the pregnant, grieving widow; the laboring patient, gripping her hand - not Cora’s - in pain, anxiety and heartache as she birthed a fatherless son; the overwhelmed, single mother; the lonely working mother.

Life had been so impossibly unfair to a soul as kind as Regina Mills, to think it had finally righted itself in such spectacularly unexpected fashion was too much for the always cynical synapses of Kathryn Midas to bear. The blonde head tilted up, eyes pooling with tears.

“Those are happy tears, right?” Kathryn nodded and stood, pulling her friend into a crushing hug.

“Ssshhhh, honey.” Regina rubbed her friend’s back soothingly and leaned in to whisper in the shell of her ear: “I love you, so much.” Emma looked at Ruby awkwardly while the brunette shrugged in response. The moment was so intimate, Emma felt like excusing herself to give them time alone.

Pulling away, Kathryn sniffed and tried wiping away the excess moisture with her palms. Regina pulled in the blonde and kissed her forehead.

“Not a word,” Kathryn threatened, staring down at Ruby, who held up her hands in immediate surrender. “And you…” She spun jabbing a finger at Emma. “Don’t fuck this up.”

“I’m not going to take offense at that bizarre congratulations, even though I should.”

“I mean it, she’s been through enough. Lord have mercy, _you’re_ her happy ending.” Half the gin and tonic disappeared in one long swallow. “What a fuckin’ world…”

Emma grabbed Regina around the waist and pulled her back onto her lap. “Princess Charming, that’s me.”

“Alright, enough of your once-in-a-decade cry, let’s get down to business.” Ruby grinned devilishly. “You and I are going to toss the most insane bachelorette party known to mankind.”

Now it was the future newlyweds’ turn to go wide-eyed. Kathryn bent forward with an evil grin. “What do you know, I’m feeling better already.”

XXXX

Sunday had been nothing short of magical, one of those perfect days in which everyone rode a euphoric high of happiness and good news. Emma had tried to decide which day was better - Saturday or Sunday - and ended up declaring them a two-way tie for best day of her life. Even being awakened out of a dead sleep by a blaring cell early Monday, Emma regained consciousness with a start…and a smile.

Hard wired by years of such calls, she rolled over and grabbed it off the nightstand before the second ring. Normally she woke in her own bed Monday mornings, but when Regina pulled her upstairs by the belt loop the previous night, she had no problem deviating from their regular sleepover schedule.

“ ’Lo?”

“Emma, it’s Slater.”

“Hey,” she yawned, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. “What’s up?”

“I need you in Portland, like, 15 minutes ago. Ezra Lincoln and his girlfriend are dead.”

 

**TBC**


	18. Chapter 18

Regina held the thin note in her hand, reading it for the tenth time that morning, each pass making her smile wider.

_Good morning Future Mrs. Swan,_

_Got a work call super early. Didn't want to wake you. Will text you later._

_I love you,_

_Future Wife_

The Mayor of Storybrooke, Maine, wasn't getting much work done that morning and, frankly, she didn't care. Ruby must have been busy spreading the news at the diner because by the time Regina arrived at Town Hall, she had a stream of well-wishers waiting to congratulate her.

Lucky for her, she always scheduled a meeting-free Monday morning, which meant the newly engaged was able to soak up the good wishes in person, e-mail and on the phone, flashing the ring whenever asked.

The ring: It felt so odd to wear one again, so heavy. Yet she smiled at the physical reminder, Regina didn't even need to look at her finger, she could feel it: I am hers. Grinning, she pulled out her phone and typed:

**I hope you're having a good morning. I love you - Future Mrs. Swan**

Eighty miles south, the day was not as bright and beautiful for Emma Swan as she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She ignored it as she stood over Ezra Lincoln's very dead body. He was seated on his couch, eyes open as if the crowd of people now in his apartment had surprised him. For a dead man, he looked little the worse for wear, except for the left side of his head, which bore a surprisingly neat exit hole from a bullet the tech was preparing to dig out of the living room wall. Diane was found in the next room, curled on the bed in a fetal position, matching gunshot to the temple.

"The super came in to check out the apartment overnight. Got a text from the girlfriend Saturday night saying they were moving out Sunday morning. This is what he found." Slater yawned, gesturing round the living room, the little contents of which were packed in boxes. "I flagged Ezra's name in the system last week, when he was ID'd Portland called me."

"Where are the dogs?" Emma asked in a monotone, eyes glued to Ezra's. "He said they had dogs."

"They're, uh, in a similar state in another room."

"Neighbors didn't hear anything?"

"No."

She eyed the gun that lay on the couch, just outside the grasp of Ezra's hand.

"No one heard a .38? _Four_ times?"

"Unis are canvassing, but so far, no. Coulda used a silencer on three of those shots."

Emma called over to the tech dissecting the wall. "Anything on the bullet?"

"Not out yet, but from what I can see, looks like a hollowpoint."

_Cop killer. How appropriate._

"Why was the super checking out this place so late?"

"Said the building had a list of people who wanted a unit. He wanted to give it a look and show it right away. He works second shift as a custodian at Maine Med, came over after finishing up there and eating dinner. He checks out."

"ME got a guess on time of death?"

"She hates to guess, but it's gotta be sometime Sunday."

Heading back over to the couch, she tilted her head and crouched down, inspecting the man's hands. No wounds or marks. _He didn't put up a fight._

"He was taking a chance using a .38 to get the job done," Slater noted. "The bullet's the right choice, but you gotta aim right with that small a gun."

"Gee, Tim, ya think he had help?" Emma didn't mean to snark but she was tired, frustrated and worried. Green eyes glassy from the early morning trip were massaged with the heels of her palms.

The trooper raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I just…" she shrugged, dejected. "I can't help but feel I let him down."

"Let him down? Fuck that shit, you did no such thing!" The words were fiercely whispered, falling out in a rapid tumble. "You tried to get him to come with you when you met. We had it all ready for him."

"I know."

"Listen, you gave him the opportunity to come and he declined. You couldn't force him. This was his choice. We had no idea he was so hot and neither did he or he woulda come with."

"That's true."

"So, PD's gonna call this, what, murder-suicide?"

"Yup."

"Bullshit."

"Yup."

A detective sidled up to the pair. "You guys done? The techs need to get rolling and we can't hold the scene forever."

Slater eyed Emma, who nodded ruefully. "Yup."

Emma headed outside for some fresh air and reached inside her jacket for her phone, also finding out a lone cigarette. _Fuck it._

Scanning the area, she spied one of the morgue techs leaning up against the city transport, a tendril of smoke curling above his head in the morning light. "Got a light?" Cupping the flame, she lit it and pulled deep, nicotine flooding her senses like a storm wave crashing onto the sand. "Thanks."

Emma took another drag, almost dizzy with sensation. She reveled in the slight relief, warm smoke filling her lungs, when she spotted Slater emerge from the building and catch her eye. They walked toward each other, meeting halfway.

"I didn't know you smoked."

"I fucking do today."

XXXX

"Hey, wonderful Mills people and some random blonde they let hang around for whatever reason, how are you doin'?"

Emma smirked at the monitor, the first time the corners of her lips rose in 48 hours. The past two days had been shit, but here, with Regina and Henry, she could almost push the anxiety to the back of her head and enjoy her family.

Monday was awful, Emma finding herself jittery from too much caffeine, too many cigarettes and not enough sleep or Regina. She was desperate to see her fiancée and sleep, content to simply feel the weight of her body at her back, an arm around her torso. But Monday was City Council night, which meant Regina was working late; that left Emma in her apartment with a bottle of Scotch and out on the backstairs-cum-fire escape with a pack of Newports. She wouldn't smoke in the apartment; Regina was a rare visitor, but if she did, the place couldn't smell like a bar.

That left her with nothing to do but drink, smoke and worry, Slater's words rattling around in her overstimulated brain: "Try to relax. This'll be over in three weeks. The Pines will be locked up for pretty much ever."

She, Regina and Henry were seated around the desk in the home office, an overdue Skype session with The Preachers underway. There was news to share.

"We're wonderful! How are you?"

"Regina, you are beaming," Mama P laughed. "What's in the water up there?"

"Oh, nothing." Emma smiled at her love's pathetic attempt to act nonchalant. "It's just…" Rather than finish the sentence, she held up her left hand.

Mama P shrieked in excitement and clapped her hands as Robert roared: "OHHHHHHHHH!" and jumped out of his seat. The women laughed as they watched him jog laps in the Preachers' living room, hands extended to the sky in victory. "YES! Swan, the first thing you've done right! YEAH!"

"Oh, sh…damn," he corrected, remembering his audience as he sat back down. "I owe Marty $50."

"You guys bet on me proposing to Regina?"

The computer speakers hummed as the baritone laugh rumbled rich and round. "Girl, we bet on whether you'd ever hold a girlfriend for longer than six months. And this was years ago. I can't believe I finally lost."

Emma felt herself start to tear up when she saw Mama P sniff and wipe her eyes. "Oh, my babies! I am so happy for you!" She paused for more wiping and sniffing; Emma looked over at her fiancée and realized it was contagious, a long finger skirting brown eyes to her right. "Regina, honey, if you need help planning a wedding, I've been dying to do so for years." The statement was punctuated by an elbow to Robert's ribs.

"Ow! Hey!"

"I would love that, I really would, thank you." Emma thought her heart would burst as she watched Regina talk about the wedding, eyes bright, smile impossibly wide.

"And, uh, Swan, if you need a—"

"Yeah, yeah, I was gonna ask. Henry is my best man," she winked over the boy's head, "but I was hoping you would help him out."

Blindingly white teeth appeared en masse as Robert's lips stretched wide in a smile. "I would be happy to. Tiny Boss, that OK? Co-best men?"

"OK." The boy was barely paying attention; rolling a small toy car back and forth over Regina's desk was infinitely more interesting than all this adult talk.

Mama P smiled: "Henry, are you excited your mommas are getting married?"

"Yeah."

"Sweetie, why don't you tell Mama and Robert about your new swing set?"

"OH, YOU GOTTA SEE IT. IT'S SO COOL! I HAVE A WALL AND A FORT AND…"

XXXX

Ninety minutes later, the shorter of the best men was bathed and in bed, one mother changing for bed, the other strolling in bearing gifts.

"Got you a present."

Regina turned to find her fiancée bearing an aluminum baseball bat and …

"Is that pepper spray?"

"Yup. Put this in your bedside drawer, the bat next to the bed."

A black eyebrow arched. "I don't know what you're into darling, but…"

"Very funny." She moved closer and sat, patting the spot next to her. Regina appreciatively watched her girlfriend's ass and thigh strain against the tight denim as one leg came to rest up on the bed. "A bat and pepper spray are far more effective than any gun."

Brown eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Think about it. As long as Henry's in the house, any gun is locked in a safe. Even if the safe's in here, by the time you unlock it, if someone's on this floor or in here you're already at a disadvantage."

She hopped off the bed. "But with this…" Emma grabbed the bat and swung so quickly Regina heard the barrel whoosh through the air. "You smack 'em good wherever you can reach, then follow up with a dose of this bad boy. Right in the face, spray vertically, you'll get some combination of eyes, nose or mouth - or hopefully, all three."

Emma tittered gleefully and held the canister up for Regina's examination. "See this button? Push down and then out, that releases a burst. Don't worry, even if Henry can get at it, I doubt he could exert the pressure to actually set off a shot."

Emma sat back down, a pleased look on her face.

"This is…very helpful, love. But what is this all about?"

The smirk faded. "I worry about you, when I'm not here. I'd feel better if I knew you had something to defend yourself. On, you know, the rare occasion you might need it…which you won't. But better safe than sorry; it would make me feel better, at least."

"You know what would make me feel better? You moving in here, with us, for good." She grinned: "You are going to become Mrs. Swan."

"You're going to become Mrs. Swan," Emma countered with a laugh.

"Would you move in with us…" she hesitated, the next words were big ones, "your family?"

"Family" was always such a loaded word for Emma Swan. People who had them - nearly everyone in the world but her, she suspected - threw it around with abandon, like the ever-replenishing resource it was. But to Emma, the concept of family was so precious, so rare and true, she kept it locked away, never to be seen or touched or felt - only thought of, an abstract concept.

The blonde pursed her lips, heart blazing with realization. She nodded quickly. When she could find her voice, it was strained and small: not that of Chief of Police Emma Swan, nor confident adult and friend Emma Swan, not even a cocky lover. It was Emma Swan, ward of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. "I've wanted to, for a long time."

"Why didn't you say something?" Regina smiled, adoration blazing from every pore. She wrapped her arms around the blonde and pulled her down on the mattress, cradling her head and rubbing her back with a warm hand.

"I'm not good at asking."

Regina's heart squeezed as she instantly remembered a snippet of a phone call a month earlier, when Mama P alluded to the very same fact. She enjoyed talking to the woman, who whenever they spoke always seemed to touch on a facet about Emma, regardless of the topic of conversation. It was as if the older woman were holding Regina's hand as she slowly waded into the deep waters that were Emma Swan.

_"Have you ever read anything about orphanages back in the day?" the older woman asked. Her tones were warm, but her diction precise, professorial._

_"I haven't."_

_"They were filled with children but you never heard a child cry. Do you know why?"_

_"No." She didn't know the answer but could sense she wouldn't want to hear it._

_"Because these children learned early on that when they cry, they will not be picked up. Before they can speak, they learn to stop crying. Their lone instinct as an infant and they teach themselves to defy it. Before they can even speak, they learn to silence themselves."_

"But I'm good at listening and I am very patient." Regina kissed the top of a blonde head. "I love you with all my heart. We're engaged for God's sake. You're the mother of my son, of course you should live here."

"Really?" Emma looked up, green eyes wide and glossy, as if they still expected to hear "No."

"Really."

XXXX

The next day, the headline was big and bold below the fold of The Storybrooke Mirror:

**FORMER OFFICER FOUND DEAD IN MURDER-SUICIDE**

Emma shook her head, disgusted. Not only was Lincoln's reputation tarnished in life, now it was unfairly the same in death. She blew into the station, issued a terse "Mornin'" at Martha and walked into her office closing the door.

She spent the night drinking and smoking, wondering what recent events meant for her and desperately hoping the answer was "nothing."

As she waited for her laptop to boot, a knock sounded from her door. "Come in."

The door opened to reveal the unexpected sight of Martha. "Y'alright?" she drawled, cocking her head at the newspaper on the desk and raising an eyebrow. She didn't have to say anything else.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"You need anythin' you let me know."

"Will do."

Later that night, the event surfaced again. Emma had been waiting all day for this shoe to drop.

"Love, do you have a moment?"

Emma looked away from the TV and up from her spot on the couch and grinned. "For you? Well…I suppose." Arms opened wide as Regina happily enfolded herself. "What's up?"

"I read the story about Ezra Lincoln."

Emma swallowed thickly; word traveled fast around town, not to mention the front-page story. While the women had talked about Daniel in the past, they rarely broached the murder. The one time the subject came up, Emma admitted she had read the department's file, Regina nodded with little to add.

"I feel…sad for him," the brunette admitted. "I didn't expect to, given his…role in what happened, but I do."

She opened her mouth to speak only to have Regina continue, half talking to Emma, half talking out loud to herself.

"So it was a murder-suicide? He really killed his girlfriend, then himself?"

"That's what Portland says." _That was true, that was what Portland said_. Regardless, shame and regret filled Emma's throat over the omission. She couldn't tell Regina the truth, not yet. Three people knew Ezra's secret: Ezra, herself and Diane, she presumed. Two of those people were now dead. She couldn't take any chances adding Regina to the list.

"Am I wrong to feel sad for him?" She rolled over in Emma's embrace and buried her head in the crook of the blonde's neck. "He killed his girlfriend! How can I feel this way? Kathryn called me up today saying he should rot in hell."

"There is no 'wrong' in feelings, I think. Feeling sad about his death only shows you for the amazing person you are. Yes, he did horrible things." She almost choked on the statement knowing the truth. "And the fact you can look beyond only demonstrates how incredible you are."

Emma squeezed the women tight and kissed her cheek. "How did I luck into you? What on earth did I do to deserve you? I ask myself that often. And, Robert asks me that pretty much every time we talk."

A husky laugh rang happily in the air. "Speaking of Robert… do you want to get married here in town? Or Boston? Or somewhere else?"

"Whatever you want."

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. You do not get to be the guy in this."

"I'm not trying to be the guy. Hey, there are plenty of guys who are into wedding planning."

"Yes, gay men."

"Regina Mills! That is a stereotype, against your own community, no less." Emma paused and thought about the gay married men she knew. "But, you are right."

Regina smiled. "I mean it, this is our wedding. I want you to be a part of the decision-making process. I want this to be what you want."

"All I want is you and Henry. Maybe Robert. We could do without Kathryn…"

"Emma!"

She collapsed in a fit of giggles. "You know I'm joking, right? I love Kathryn - who she is and what she means to you. Just don't ever tell her that." She threaded her fingers in between Regina's, marveling at how just a touch from the woman could ground her, make her whole and happy.

"Oh God, no. She'd make you give a sworn statement and we'd have to get it notarized."

"Then she'd take it out whenever we come over and make me re-enact it."

"You really do know her."

"I do and she's wonderful. But I love to give her a hard time. And you've noticed she isn't exactly easy on me, either."

"You two do have a strange relationship."

"But we have one very important thing in common." Emma rolled her fiancée on top of her body, then cradled her face in her hands. "We love you more than anything."

"Lucky me." Regina smiled, her mind racing to a thought that had been eluding her. "Where's your laundry?

"What?" Emma laughed at the non sequitur.

"Your laundry? You haven't done laundry here in a week. Are you out of clothes yet?"

"You want to get me out of my clothes?" Emma purred. She sat up, gently pushing Regina onto her back on the opposite end of the couch. She straddled the brunette's hips, sweeping her Henley over her head with a dramatic flair.

"Well, yes, but I mean, you normally do your laundry here."

"I have been extremely efficient on the laundry front at my building," she smirked with a sly smile. "Oh, and I can get out of my lease after next month, then I am all yours."

Emma hooked her thumbs under her bra straps and slowly drew them down over her shoulders, then quickly unhooked it altogether, dropping it to the floor. "Do you want to keep talking about getting my clothes clean or getting me dirty?"

Closing her eyes, she stretched her neck backward, blonde hair cascading to her ass as she felt long fingers creep up her torso and massage her breasts.

XXXX

For once, paperwork was a welcome distraction in Emma Swan's world, an environment that, for the past week, felt like a gyroscope. Calls to Slater bore no new evidence or leads.

"We're tits up," he noted, grimly. "However, the op is still on, this didn't affect anything."

 _This_ , Emma thought, ruefully. _A man died trying to do the right thing. It was more than "this."_

_"Any word on Edgar?"_

_"Wasn't him. We've been keeping an eye on him, anyway, before 'ol Ezra popped up. He was on his boat all weekend. We traced his cell, he never left town. Plus, you met him, right? That's not his style and I doubt he'd be able to leave a clean scene."_

_Emma nodded to herself. That was true._

Whoever killed Ezra and Diane knew what they were doing. Emma tried to stop obsessing over counting the days until the op, instead doing laundry every day, smoking only on days she wouldn't see Regina and chewing a lot of gum to ensure no one knew about her backslide.

The phone rang, pulling Emma out of the happily mundane task of ordering her officers new duty belts. Her head tilted at a ringing pattern she never heard before. _The in-house line?_

"Martha?" Emma could hardly contain the surprise in her voice.

"Chief, someone here to see you."

Emma nearly laughed - not only had she never heard the dispatcher actually call her line before but her door was also half open - she could hear Martha at her desk and on the phone. A closed door never stopped Martha from fog horning her communications, not to mention one that was open. She had never heard her colleague sound so professional in-house, where her usual tone ran more along the lines of "annoyed grandmother."

"Who's so important you're not yelling through my door?" she chuckled.

The reply was measured, flat: "Mr. Hiram Pine would like to speak with you."

Cold dread lit every fiber in her body, her nervous system igniting like a sizzling bomb fuse. She stood, patted the gun on her hip out of habit and exited the room to find the bullpen completely still, occupied by a paler-than-normal Martha and three men in suits.

Hiram Pine had aged since his last booking photo - unsurprising since that mug shot was taken in 1982. He was shorter than she envisioned, maybe 5'5" or so, and beefy, bordering on fat. His hair was white and thick, cut into a classic boys regular, sitting atop leathery, somehow almost tan skin, even though arrest records said he was Caucasian and the tanning opportunities during a Maine April were limited to say the least.

Piercing blue eyes dominated his round face, split by a prominent Roman nose. Emma reached back for his age: 74. He looked younger and not at all what she suspected for an alleged backwoods crime family kingpin.

"Miss Swan," he began jovially, his voice rich and sonorous. "Pastor Hiram Pines, Fellowship of the Righteous Redeemer. A pleasure to meet you."

Emma grasped the extended hand, the palm and fingers thick and tough. "Emma Swan. And who are these gentlemen?"

"Ah, these are my boys, Ben and Zeke." _Boys? They're in their 40s._ Unsmiling, they nodded. "May I have a moment of your time?"

"Of course." She extended her hand toward her door, as she watched the pair sit on a bench across from Martha. "One second, please, my officers are waiting for some information."

She quickly found a Post-It on Martha's desk and scribbled: A1/2: 10-19. "Please get this address out to patrol," she ordered formally, handing the note to Martha.

"Right away."

Purposely leaving the door ajar, Emma walked in her office to find Hiram standing, inspecting a framed reproduction of one of the first maps of Storybrooke. She was silently relieved, the note would bring Bell and Nolan back to the station; she prayed the town stayed quiet for the next 15 minutes. She had no idea what was going to go down but liked her chances better if there were two more officers on scene if anything did.

"Would you like a seat?"

"I prefer to stand." He stood, arms clasped behind his back, chest out.

"What can I do for you?"

"I came to see if there was any progress on the Lincoln case." The man's chin dipped slightly, electric eyes narrowing a shade.

"Excuse me?"

"Ezra Lincoln, an officer on this force for several years. I heard he died under unfortunate circumstances in Portland."

Emma nodded slowly. "I heard that, too. But that's out of my jurisdiction, I wouldn't have any information on an investigation. Portland PD would be your best bet."

"Ezra was a disturbed man, Miss Swan."

"Chief Swan," she corrected.

He continued, unfazed. "He was a member of my flock and he ruined his career. Ezra started drinking too much, doin' drugs. Messes with a person's head, you know."

"And you know this how?"

"He was troubled and came to me for counsel. I did the best I could, but his faith was not strong enough. He refused to follow my guidance, do as I suggested, as the Lord willed."

"This is all information you should be sharing with the Portland authorities."

"Ahm just sayin', he was a sick soul. He wasn't a God-fearing man. He didn't listen to the Lord. _He didn't listen to me._ Are you a God-fearing woman, Miss Swan?"

"That has nothing to do with this."

Pine chuckled. "That has _everything_ to do with this. Do you heed the Lord and His people?"

"Are you threatening me, Mr. Pine?"

"On the contrary, I'm trying to help you, my girl. Stay out of affairs that don't concern you. Heed the word of the Lord, not those who are troubled, sick. Deuteronomy 13:4 - 'Ye shall walk after the Lord your God, and fear him, and keep his commandments, and obey his voice, and ye shall serve him, and cleave unto him.'"

"My beliefs are my own. I am the chief of police of Storybrooke, not Portland. I have no interest in anything beyond our town."

"He robbed a young widow of justice and an infant of his father. You're uninterested in that? I hear you're…friendly… with Miss Mills."

Refusing to take the bait, Emma remained silent and stony, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn't make matters worse. But internally, her heart and brain nearly seized at the mention of Regina.

"Have you ever thought about returning to Boston? I hear it's lovely in the spring. Our way of life up here is not for everyone…" Pine walked slowly to the office door, his dress shoes landing loud and deliberate against the linoleum. Turning, he paused in the doorway and smiled. "You have a fine day, Miss Swan."

Emma sagged against the wall, heartbeat racing fiercely. She braced her hands on her knees and forced a series of deep breaths, pure fear racing through her arteries, hands instantly clammy. She somehow felt cold and yet red-hot at the same time. Pushing off the wall, Emma willed her suddenly heavy legs out of the office, to find Pine and his sons gone, Bell and Nolan at their desks, eyes wide, mouths open. The silence of the bullpen was cut by Martha's gravely demand: "I want my shotgun back - _now_."

XXXX

"Alright, spill. What the fuck is up with you?"

"And good evening to you, too, sunshine." Emma sat on her back stairs, smoking and inching her way through a bottle of 12-year-old Macallan she had to drive to Camden to get. Technically she was going out of town to buy a carton of cigarettes - Like a fucking 14-year-old, she thought - and while she was there, well, why not get something to drink, too?

"Seriously, what is up?"

"I'm engaged."

"That's not it." Robert's voice was uncharacteristically serious. "I saw you the other night, I know that look." He knew it well, the patented Emma Swan "I'm Pretending Everything's Cool But It's Not." He recognized it from several hairy occasions, the last being the months following the bombing. Something was very wrong.

Out of practice, Emma took a drag off her cigarette a little too loudly.

_"Are you fucking smoking?"_

"So?"

"Mightyfine lets you smoke?"

" _Mightyfine doesn't know._ I'm at my place tonight."

"But it's Thursday."

"So?"

"You're at her place on Thursdays."

"What are you, my fucking nanny?" Emma's voice raised in volume and anger. "I can have a night to myself. I don't fell well."

"You tell me what the fuck is going on or the next call I make is to Regina."

"No! No, no! Wait!" Emma nearly blanched, near sobriety returning in an instant. Robert didn't do first names, just nicknames; when he used given names it meant business. He nearly laughed, biting the inside of his cheek to maintain his upper hand and authority over his drunken friend. Emma being in a serious relationship was good for her and for him - she was never this easy to manipulate before. Her tone went from defiant to surrender in five seconds. "Fucking chill. I'll explain."

Forty minutes, two cigarettes and two inches of Scotch later, she had.

"Well, fuck me."

"Yeah."

"You can't tell her."

"I know! And I feel fucking horrible about it. But I don't know what these guys are gonna do, if anything. They know we're together, I can't put her and Henry in their way. I'd die, man."

Robert shook his head as sobs and shuddered breaths sounded over the line. "Alright, alright, c'mon now. Just relax."

"But…"

"Ssshh, just, like, shut up for a second, OK?" He giggled, this was so absurd. "If I didn't have to work this whole week I'd be up there with you. You're gonna have to handle this on your own. You can do this. You're Emma Fucking Swan. Here's what you're gonna do. Keep your eyes peeled. You call that statie if anything weird happens, you dig?"

"Yeah."

"Smoke if you gotta, but stop drinking yourself stupid. If these assholes made a move on your tonight, you'd be fucking toast you dumb lush."

"Fuck off." A thick current of love ran alongside the command.

"Next, the minute those lunatics are in jail, you are to stop smoking, you got it? I know you need a release right now but the minute it goes down, you're done. You got a family to think about."

"I know."

The giant man exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "I hate keeping this from Mightyfine. _I hate it._ "

"I know, but there's no other way."

"There isn't. I know she'll forgive me when it's over."

"She'll forgive me, too."

"Ah, I don't care about you."

"Fuck off."

"Shut up, Smokey."

XXXX

"Mail's here!" Martha bellowed, the announcement punctuated by a thud and the flap of mail hitting the desk.

Exiting the break room, Nolan switched into a jog and made a beeline for a package. "Duty belts! Finally!"

"Calm down, you're gonna strain something," Emma laughed, grabbing a box cutter out of Martha's top drawer. She smiled to herself as she caught a glimpse of the dispatcher's sawed-off shotgun, which had been returned to its rightful place under the desk the week before. _"If I knew you had named it Gibbs I never would have taken it away in the first place."_

"Seriously, my belt is almost completely frayed, I feel like my pants are gonna drop any minute."

Bell walked over with a smirk: "Then on behalf of the citizens of Storybrooke, wait - no - America, I thank you, Chief."

Emma shook her head with a snicker as she sliced the box open at the sides. Opening it up, she flew backwards with a start, the box cutter dropping to the floor with a clatter.

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

**TBC**


	19. Chapter 19

Emma reeled back three feet, pale as a lifting fog, while Nolan and Bell leaned in.

"I'd like to see you keep your pants up with _that_ ," the petite officer laughed.

Emma's mouth was stuck in a perfect circle as she tried to calm her heart rate. Martha slowly walked up to the desk and examined the contents.

"Dead mallard," she noted with a shrug. "Pretty one, too. Shame." She eyed her boss with a squint. "So what?"

" _Really_?" Emma yelled.

"How the hell are my pants gonna stay up?" Nolan groaned. He looked at Emma, head cocked. "You think they meant to send a swan? Or are they literally saying you're a dead duck?"

"My God, that's wicked hillbilly, but those Pines are pretty dumb," Bell added, handing the stunned woman a cup of water from the cooler. "You think they don't know the difference between a duck and a swan?"

"Maybe they couldn't find one?"

"Could be," Martha drawled. "Not easy to find up here. Big, too, it'd cost a fortune to mail. Nasty bird to boot."

"You think it's the Pines?"

The women looked at Nolan like he had just spent two minutes pulling a door labeled "Push."

Emma watched the scene unfold, pupils blown, mouth still wide open. "No one…you… you guys… _no one_ thinks this is weird?" she stuttered angrily. " _None of you are shocked by this?_ " Her three colleagues looked back, unfazed. "All right, don't touch anything until we dust."

"Doubt you'll find prints," Martha remarked. "Everyone watches CSI."

The next day, the dispatcher arrived at work with a .45 on her hip. "What if I'm away from my desk?" she announced as Emma spotted her latest accessory. Green eyes wandered to the bulge around an ankle. Martha followed her gaze and lifted her pant leg; hidden under a pair of beige polyester slacks was a .22 tucked into an ankle holster.

Nolan leaned over his desk for a look: "That's a cute one."

"Anything else?"

She raised the other pant leg to reveal a 6-inch buck knife strapped to her calf.

Emma snorted, "Well, I feel better. No one's getting by Rambo here," and headed for her office. "Bell, got a minute?"

Martha lifted a cup of coffee to her lips, pausing before the first sip. "Damn straight."

"What's up?"

Emma sat and looked up at the blonde. "I want to brush up on my…" she searched for the right way to cage her request, "hand-to-hand skills. Got time to teach an old dog new tricks?"

"I'm not touching the 'old dog' part but, yeah, I got tricks for you. Free tonight?"

"I'll buy dinner after. Deal?"

Ten hours later, Emma realized she got the harder end of the bargain, sweating and wailing on a heavy bag. And that was when Bell wasn't demonstrating basic moves that were sending her to the mat like a toddler.

"Again."

Strike.

"Elbow higher, remembering this is an uppercut elbow. Follow through, really power through your hips. Again."

Strike.

"Better…again."

Emma executed the elbow strike then made a timeout signal with her hands. "I feel for anyone who underestimates you," she panted in between long pulls off a water bottle.

The small woman chuckled darkly: "You should."

Smirking, Emma realized that she and Bell were about as friendly as she allowed herself to get with a direct report. One reason: The younger woman had the rare ability to ask just enough, but not too much. And in this case, she didn't have to ask a single question to understand that Emma was, for some reason, in the weeds with the worst people in town.

"You worried?"

"Anyone sends you a dead duck, you kinda should be, no?"

Bell chuckled. "Well, you need anything outside of the gym, you let me know, OK. I've got no life, I'm always around."

Now it was Emma's turn to laugh; she remembered the life of a young police officer well. "I really appreciate that, thank you."

"And I really mean that. No one messes with my boss."

XXXX

The last thing Regina expected to see upon entering the Police Station was Chief Emma Swan…holding an infant. Trying to keep their professional lives separate, Regina withstood nearly all temptation to visit on town business, knowing it would be hard to leave. But when Laura handed her paperwork that needed the Chief's signature - documents that had to go to the Finance Department by end of day - it was too irresistible to ignore.

"Maybe you could run that over?" she asked with a grin.

 _I'm doing this for the town_ , Regina justified as she walked over, giddy with unexpected bonus Emma time, a feeling she knew was silly given Emma had all but moved in and had been on her like a guard on an inmate.

She wasn't sure what had gotten into the woman, but for the past week the blonde was extremely protective, almost overprotective: following her into work, stopping by to follow her home, taking her to lunch or eating lunch together in her office. One night she even caught her double-checking the window locks and the alarm system.

_"What was that for?" she giggled one day, when Emma threw a protective arm across Regina, stopping her from crossing the street on the way back to her office._

_"I didn't think that car was gonna stop."_

_Regina smiled and winked. "You worry too much."_

Those thoughts were erased from her brain the minute she saw her fiancée, who was cradling a baby in that awkward, ungraceful way those who rarely hold infants do - gamely trying, but unsure of their abilities and afraid they will harm the child if they move one inch the wrong way.

While Emma looked a mixture of enamored and anxious, Regina couldn't have held back the smile that sprouted had she been wearing a ski mask.

"And what do we have here?"

"Mayor Mills, meet Emily, Dan Ryan's daughter." Emma nodded her head at the weekend-shift officer, who was across the room talking to Martha. "How old is she Dan, 3?

"Yeah, Chief, she's starting kindergarten in the fall." He smiled at Regina. "Ten weeks."

"She's beautiful," she cooed. "May I?"

Following an affirmative nod, Regina gently transferred the child to her sure arms. "Oooh, hello, little one."

Emma melted as Regina's face instantly transformed into warmth and affection. "How are you?" The baby squawked upon being transferred into new arms, but quickly settled. "Ssshhh," she hushed, jostling her slightly.

"Was your baby-sense tingling? Did you somehow know I was trying to hold a poor, defenseless child?"

"You looked quite capable." She leaned in slightly and whispered, "You looked beautiful. A natural."

Emma tried to fight off a blush while Regina couldn't take her eyes off the child's fair features and wispy, blonde hair. "So you like babies?"

"How could you not? I miss this age."

Emma squinted in surprise. "Really?"

"Oh, yes. Sure, there's a lot to be said for the self-help skills of a preschooler, but infants…" she trailed off, dreamily. "They're so warm and all they want to do is cuddle."

"You just described me," she noted quietly.

A giggle erupted from the Mayor, so loud and unexpected, Martha and Dan looked over with twin smirks. "Hush, you."

"I know they're up at odd times and they're obviously high maintenance, but when a little baby smiles at you…" Regina eyed the child in her arms and smiled wide, eyes bright. "Do you smile, little one?"

Instinctively, the baby smiled, all-gums, obviously very proud of her new skill.

"How'd you do that?"

Regina tilted her head with a grin, her voice soothing and sweet as she continued charming the child. "Most of the time, if you smile at a baby, he or she will smile back. It's one of their only parlor tricks at this point."

"You think she'd smile at me?" Emma leaned over and smiled wide. "Hey, small person." The infant returned Emma's beam, prompting her to exclaim, "Whoa." She looked to Regina for confirmation. "I want to try again."

Across the room, Dan and Martha watched the two most powerful women in town coo over a baby.

"I say within two years, you in?" she rasped quietly.

The officer chuckled. "No way, lady. That's a sucker bet."

XXXX

Emma was busy washing dishes, wondering why barbecue sauce was so delicious yet such a bitch to clean, when she felt two long arms envelop her waist.

"Uh, excuse me, ma'am, but I have to get these dishes done or my boss is going to fire me."

She felt the warmth of Regina's cheek against her back, a warm chuckle escaping. "I'm pretty sure you're here for life."

"I'd ask you to fool around, but I'm so sore from that Israeli torture session with Bell. Wait, wanna go fool around in an Epsom salt bath? All the sexy seniors are doin' it."

"Uh, uh." Regina held the women firmly in place. "I like holding you like this, stay where you are."

"Yessum."

She continued scrubbing in silence with a very beautiful barnacle nestled on her back.

"Emma?"

"Mmmm?"

"Are you happy?"

Stunned, she stopped and placed the sponge and pot in the sink. "Of course I am." She turned in Regina's arms and pulled the brunette closer. Black hair tickled her neck as a dark head lay on Emma's shoulder.

"I'm worried. You seem a little…off."

Pangs of guilt stabbed deep. "I'm fine, sweetheart. Just work stuff."

"Anything I can help with?"

Emma blanched at the thought. _Fuck, no._ "Police junk. But thank you."

"You would tell me if something was wrong, if I was doing something wrong?"

"Honey, I can't think of anything you could ever do that would classify as 'wrong.'" She hummed kissing Regina's temple.

"Even if I threw out that hideous red leather jacket?"

"Hey! I love that jacket. I bought that with my first paycheck after the academy."

"That makes it even more tragic," she laughed, noticing they had begun to sway, slowly, gently, side to side in the middle of the kitchen. "Where is that, anyway? I haven't seen you wear it in a while."

 _At the cleaners, hard to get smoke out of leather was stuck in her throat,_ remorse gnawing at her chest. "It's getting too warm. Plus, warmer weather means the return of my famous cut-offs."

"Mmmmm."

"This is about all the dancing I do, you know, sober," Emma noted, desperate the change the subject. "So if you're underwhelmed, you may want to cancel the whole wedding first-dance thing."

"I thought we could dance a little together, then bring Henry to join us."

"Oh, God."

"What?"

"I think my ovaries exploded, that's the cutest damn thing I've ever heard." She could picture it: The brides in their finery, Henry in a little suit, swaying in their arms in a giggling clutch on the dance floor. "Alright, now I want to do a first dance. Although we're gonna kill Mama P."

"I don't want that."

"I know."

"We're a beautiful family, Emma. I just want you to be happy."

She inhaled, simply taking in the blessing that was her reality; one hand wrapped around Regina's slim shoulder, another at the small of her back. She squeezed gently. "I am happy, so happy with you and Hen. I almost feel too happy, sometimes, like I don't deserve it."

"I know you struggle with that, I see it," Regina's alto soothed low and soft. "And it's OK. I'm going to spend a lifetime reminding you that you do."

"Regina?"

"Yes, love?"

"Can we go fool around _now_?"

The brunette smiled. "I'll go find the Epsom salt."

XXXX

It was an event so rare, yet always so hoped for, Regina couldn't believe it actually happened: The biweekly Planning Board meeting was canceled. Well, not _technically_ canceled, but opened and adjourned in 4 minutes thanks to the fact two members were currently leveled by some sort of spring flu, another was at the birth of his child and a third was on vacation. That left the board without a quorum, which meant business was tabled and Regina Mills had two free hours - and a sitter already at her house. She knew just how she wanted to use them and just where she wanted to go.

And that's how she found herself almost literally running into Mary-Margaret Blanchard in front of Emma's building.

"Mayor Mills!"

"Hello, Miss…Blanchard, right?"

"Yes, nice to see you. Are you looking for Emma?"

Regina nearly blushed; she was looking for Emma alright. "I am."

"I just heard her walk down the back stairs. I bet she's in the garage."

"Thank you," she smiled, pleased with her own ingenuity.

But the surprise she planned for Emma was all her own when she snuck around the corner and found Emma not in the garage, but on the back steps, blowing a thick stream of smoke out of the side of her mouth, cigarette wedged casually between her fingers, eyes glued to her phone.

The revelation stunned Regina into silence, mouth agape, the small sound of gravel shifting as she stepped back drawing Emma's attention.

Green eyes burst wide in horror, hanging immobile from Emma's lips. "Shit! Regina! I—"

The brunette moved her lips to speak, but no sound ushered forth, so stunned by the scene. Finally, a few disconnected vowels emerged from a face whose eyes had collapsed at the corners, then a complete sentence:

"You…you _smoke_?"

"Let me explain, honey, I—"

"How long has this been going on? How could you…" Tears began to well in Regina's eyes. Full lips pressed together tightly as her hand flew to her mouth. She paused trying to regain her ability to speak; Emma wisely remained silent.

"I can't decide what crushes me more, that you engage in this deadly, useless habit or that you've been _hiding it from me_. What else are you hiding me from, Emma? From me, your fiancée? _The mother of your son._ "

The words were filled with rage but the voice was quiet and shaky, utterly gutted. Tossing the cigarette into her makeshift beer bottle ashtray, Emma buried her head in her hands, powerless under the onslaught of shame and regret. When she looked up, Regina had begun to walk away.

"Wait! Sweetheart, I—"

She vaulted off the stairs and reached for the brunette's elbow, which was violently wrenched from her grasp.

"Don't touch me!"

"Can I—"

"No, you cannot do anything with me," she spat, eyes blazing. "You sit here and smoke your goddamn cigarettes. Do not call me. Do not text me. Do not come over."

Emma returned to the back steps and sat, wide-eyed and frozen, heartbeat racing shallow and fast. She felt the muscles in the back of her throat pinch in anticipation of a mammoth sob as the sound of the Mercedes peeling away rang in her ears.

XXXX

A cool spring breeze blew through Emma's window in the early morning light, accompanied by a loud creak and a muffled cough. Consciousness returned in a microsecond, green eyes snapping open. _Garage_. Grabbing her Glock on the nightstand, she threw on a pair of jeans, boots and a hoodie, and headed to investigate, creeping down the back stairs that split the apartment building from the stand-alone structure.

Gun drawn, she found the garage open and a large man looking inside the Mustang. The sound of a sliding chamber split the silence.

"Hands up, Edgar. Turn around. Slowly."

The obese man did just that. His face was obscured by a Red Sox hat but Emma would know that build anywhere.

Training drew her eyes first to his hands: no weapon. Next: his belt. With that gut hanging over, if anything was tucked in that tight a space he'd have zero chance of getting it out quickly.

She approached cautiously, gun-arm extended: "Arms down slowly. I'm taking off your jacket." Emma tugged the windbreaker off his ample frame from behind and tossed it out of the garage, just short of the street. Her lip curled at the insignia embroidered on the breast: Maine Police Chiefs Association.

The man remained silent as she took four steps back and lowered her weapon. "Are you trying to cut my brakes?"

"What am I, some wop Mafia guy? Pfft. I just want to talk. I mean it. I was just going to wait. Nice car."

"So you thought you'd just break into my garage?"

He shrugged.

"Sit on the ground. What do you want and why shouldn't I put a bullet in your gut?"

"Cause I'm fixin' to help you. And you're too good a cop, Swan. I'd shoot someone, not you."

"Talk."

"You gotta go. Leave town. Take the Mayor and her son, leave 'em here, whatever. If you go, no one will hurt them. If you stay, you're all dead before May."

"Who wants me dead?"

He laughed. "Please."

"Why should I trust you?"

"'Cause I'm the former chief of Storybrooke." He smiled wide and slick, like a politician on the stump. "Why wouldn't anyone? Don't try to bullshit a bullshitter, kid. The Pines know Ezra talked to you about Gendreau."

All Emma could hear was Slater's warning in her head: You can't let on you know anything.

"I never met the man."

"They _saw_ , Emma."

"They're not the most reputable sources from what I hear. Why do you care? You don't strike me as the sentimental type."

He rubbed his chins and laughed. "True. But I do like you. You're a good cop. You don't deserve this." She gave him credit, he was trying his best Cop Psych 101. She was shocked he even knew it, he probably picked it up from Law & Order reruns.

"Yet I have it," she barked, the anger and frustration of the past weeks rolling to a boil. "And I didn't do anything. I didn't meet that guy. I don't know what you're talking about. All I know is these fucking lunatics are trying to scare me, I don't know why and no one will help me."

" _I'm_ trying to help you. _Listen to me._ Resign. It's for the greater good. Say whatever you want. The minute you announce you're leaving, they'll back off. Take Regina and the boy and go back to Massachusetts." A thick brow furrowed, the question genuine: "Are you that boy's dad now? Is that how it works?"

Green eyes blazed, teeth gritted. "Fuck you. Don't you ever fucking speak her name."

"I'm just trying to help." Lips closed tightly in a smug smile.

"Get up and get out." Emma waved the gun, motioning him off the floor, an exercise that took a while given his generous carriage.

"You tell the Pines to fuck off and leave me alone," she instructed as he rose, slowly to one knee. "I've got no beef with them. They shouldn't have one with me. I don't know shit and I won't do shit."

Emma tucked her gun into the small of her back as the man sluggishly rose to two feet.

"Edgar…"

He turned just in time to absorb a vicious hook on the jaw, snapping his head violently. He staggered into the wall with a thud and bounced off quickly, lurching backwards into the street.

"Fuckin' dyke cunt!" A bloody stream of saliva flew out with the words.

Emma chuckled sickly as she approached, cracking her knuckles. "Just for that…"

Busy watching the blonde massage her fingers, he never saw Emma's foot coming. She twisted her body and sent a vicious side kick directly to his knee joint, the limb buckling sickly as he crashed to the ground with a scream.

"You get the fuck out, Edgar. You don't want anyone seeing you. They might talk."

She tossed one last sentiment over her shoulder as she closed the garage door and started up the back stairs, his whimpers wafting over the early morning air. "If I ever see you again I will curb stomp you so fucking hard they'll need dental records to ID you."

XXXX

"Have a good night!" Laura called as she left her desk and walked out of the Mayor's office.

Disconsolate, Regina didn't even bother with the automatic, "You, too." Since her blowup with Emma two days earlier life had not only returned to the serious, somber affair it was before the blonde's arrival, it was worse. Regina was alone, missing her love terribly, and now had a 4-year-old questioning seemingly on the hour the whereabouts of his "Mom."

Regina looked down at the ring still adorning her hand. _Did I overreact? Would she even want me back?_ True to her request, Emma had not called, texted or visited the house. She had no idea what to do next, other than go home and try to figure out a new series of excuses to feed Henry for the night.

Sighing, she shouldered her work bag and left the building. Warm, spring air caressed her face as she walked into the parking lot, sun still shining brightly. Regina may not have been happy, but the season sure was.

She ambled toward her car lost in thought, not noticing a lone figure leaning against the hood until she was five feet away: a sheepish Chief Emma Swan in a standard patrol uniform, a dozen red roses in her hand.

"This is a low blow," Regina noted coolly, nodding at the uniform, a corner of her lip raising a centimeter.

"This isn't calling. Or texting. Or visiting." A tiny smile crept onto the fair face. "I had to pull out the big guns." Emma's gaze immediately fell to the brunette's left hand, which still sported the ring. _Thank God._ She released a breath she didn't know she was holding. "I'm desperate." The smile vanished.

Emma placed the flowers on the hood and began to loosen her uniform tie and unbutton the top of her shirt.

"What are you—"

"Wait, please. Something I want to show you." Emma separated the sides of the shirt to reveal a nicotine patch on her upper chest. "I'm so, so sorry. I used to smoke when I was in Boston and I fell off the wagon recently. Two weeks, that's it, I swear. I was planning to quit again. "

Emma took two steps towards her fiancée and reached for her hands, waiting for permission. A small nod signaled approval.

"What made you start again?"

"Police stuff."

"Nothing else?"

_Other than the most lawless, immoral people in town gunning for me, no, honey, nothing else._

"No."

Technically, that was true. Everything fell under the generous label of "police stuff." Since Regina stormed off, Emma had spent hours wondering how much to tell the woman if she took her back. _If she freaked out about me smoking, what would she do if she knew I met Ezra, discovered the facts behind her husband's murder, was a target of the most dangerous people in the county, may have endangered her son and, oh, yeah, assaulted the former police chief the day before? Probably throw the fucking ring in my face._

Emma came to the conclusion there was only one thing she could do: Get back in her fiancée's good graces, protect her and her son from possible danger, and hopefully survive to see these assholes arrested and jailed forever. One week, she told herself. One week, one week, one week. Then she could not only share the truth but also provide closure. Yes, Regina may be mad, but it would be all over, everyone safe, no more danger or uncertainty.

_"You gotta come clean," Robert counseled the night before. "Tell her everything."_

_"I can't. Her husband was murdered. I've got a fucking target on my back, they might have one on theirs all because of me. I can't put her in that position."_

_"You can't keep that from her! She has a right to know! She's an adult. Work with her, you're being incredibly patronizing."_

_"I'm a trained officer. I can keep them safe. What good is making her worry when she doesn't have to?"_

_"You'd be respecting her, telling her the truth."_

_The truth. The words rang hard and before she knew it, the truth - Emma's greatest fear - was spilling out of her mouth in a gush of pure anxiety._

_"SHE COULD LEAVE ME!" Horror raced through her tightening chest. "The best thing I've ever been blessed with in my life and I could lose it - like I've lost everything ever."_

_"Well, she's kinda not with you now due to deception, is she?"_

_"Oh, fuck off," she sighed, exasperated. "It was more of an omission."_

_"You and your fucking technicalities. You shoulda been a lawyer."_

_"Seriously, man, she could leave me…forever."_

_"If you continue to play fast and loose with the truth, she may no matter what."_

Regina felt a warm thumb rubbing her hands slowly, gently. It had barely been 48 hours but she was yearning for Emma's touch, her warmth, her love with unparalleled ferosity. Green eyes gripped hers, utterly contrite.

"Honey, I am so, so sorry. Please believe me."

"I believe you, but can I trust you?"

"Always."

Emma's eyes were wet with tears as she reached up to caress an olive face. "Please, let me kiss you."

Doing one better, Regina leaned in and softly pressed her lips to Emma's. "Come home."

So she did - the Mustang parked in front of 108 Mifflin, the blue patrol uniform hung up in Regina - and now also Emma's - vast walk-in closet. Hopeful for success, Emma had a bag stashed in the back seat of her car, which meant a happy reunion with Henry, dinner, a raucous game of indoor tag, bath, bedtime and a very intimate sleepover/reunion for the once-again-happy couple.

XXXX

A shrill ring pierced the dark. Emma woke immediately, spying the clock on the nightstand - _2:12 a.m.? Fuck me_ \- and automatically reached for her cell, only to realize it was the house phone on the nightstand. The brunette barely stirring beside her, Emma picked up.

"Hello?"

"Regina!"

"No, this is Emma."

"Oh! This is Stephanie from across the street. The yellow car is yours, right?"

"Yeah." Emma squinted at the woman's frantic tone and nervous pitch.

"It's on fire!"

**TBC**


	20. Chapter 20

Emma parted the bedroom curtains to her find beloved Mustang engulfed. Flames so yellow they were almost white shot out of both windows, angry fingers of searing heat rolling and curling high, pitch-black flames disappearing into the equally dark sky.

"Call 911!" Emma barked into the receiver, then ran to Henry's room. She picked up the child's dead weight and speed walked back into the master bedroom, depositing him next to his mother. Regina shifted and groaned in confusion, as a still-sleeping Henry immediately curled into her torso, like magnet ends meeting.

"Honey…" Emma leaned over and kissed the brunette awake, "we have a problem."

"Why's Henry in here?" she squinted with a sleepy grin.

"My car's on fire." Off in the distance, Emma could hear the low grunts of the emergency horn start. Bellowing out from the fire station on Main Street every 10 seconds, it would call in the volunteer force. She hopped on one leg, then threw on jeans and a sweatshirt. "And there's the alarm; it's gonna get really loud here in about 10 minutes."

"What?"

"My car, it's on fire. I gotta get out there."

"How is your—" The blare of Emma's work phone cut off the question. As Regina went to the window, Emma picked up.

"Swan…yeah, it's mine."

"OH MY GOD!"

"You're gonna need two crews…OK, hurry."

"Is that going to explode?" she shrieked in a volume that jostled Henry out of his slumber. Shade up, curtains open, the glow of the fire started to lighten the dark room.

"Momma, too loud!" he groaned.

"Not unless they cracked the fuel tank."

"Who is _they_?" Regina's voice was bordering on hysterical. "What the hell is going on?"

Emma heard the howl of the fire truck approaching. "You're safe. You and Henry stay here."

"Fire truck!" Henry exclaimed, catching on. "I hear one!"

Emma knelt by the bed and held his hands, the wail of Charlie shift cruisers joining the din that was rising in volume seemingly every second. "Bud, my car has a boo-boo and the firemen are coming to fix it. I need you to stay with Momma and keep her safe." Grabbing his face with both hands, she leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Mom!" he giggled. "OK."

She spun and grabbed Regina by the shoulders. "Stay here. I'll be back." She leaned in to offer a reassuring kiss only to be stopped by an outstretched palm on her sternum.

"Go," Regina commanded, unsmiling.

Emma raced downstairs and out the door, just as the pumper pulled up, siren finally, mercifully, silenced. Firemen evacuated the truck in an instant, like clowns rushing out of a car. It looked like chaos, but each man knew exactly what to do and where to go, equipment pulled from nooks and crannies of the truck, hoses run to hydrants, instructions barked over the jumping scene.

Her overnight officers were halfway up the walkway on their way to the front door. A riot of flashing emergency lights, red, white and blue, lit up the neighborhood, bouncing off homes and windows like a patriotic after-dark, outdoor disco.

"You alright, Chief?"

"Yeah." She scanned the area and saw Regina's neighbors peering out windows or on their front lawns, jackets thrown over their pajamas. A fresh wave of embarrassment washed over her brain, laying atop frustration, anger and fear. "Go tell the neighbors it's under control, nothing's gonna spread. See if they saw or heard anything." The men nodded and headed off, passing Fire Chief Pete Coggins as he jogged up.

"What's new?" he asked casually, ask if they were meeting outside the bakery on a slow Sunday morning.

She sighed. "Oh, fuck off."

"How's the wife?"

"A little pissed right now." She jerked her head toward a second-story window. Coggins followed her direction to find the Mayor staring down grimly.

"Any idea what happened?"

"Other than my car's on fire? No."

"Electrical?"

Emma shrugged, arms crossed. It looked more professional than hugging herself, which is what she felt like doing. "Coulda been, but…"

"County fire marshal's been notified. He'll be here tomorrow." He chuckled to himself. "You're gonna get shit for this, you know."

Emma knew he was referring to her fellow law enforcement colleagues, but her mind was focused on another aggrieved party. "I know."

"If you need a place to stay, you can fight Rufus for the couch." Emma nearly laughed, Rufus was a bear-sized Newfoundland. Despite her somber mood, Emma quickly reminded herself how much she liked Pete. Maybe a handful of years older than her, lanky frame topped by a perpetually untamed mop of brown hair, he was funny, smart, very good at his job - and extremely laid back for the chief of a fire department. He always reminded her of Shaggy from Scooby-Doo, chill - but not stoned. But what she liked most was that he was one of the only people in town who would give her shit like her former buddies on the force.

"Very funny."

"You know, jewelry always works for me, but then again I was never stupid enough to have my car blow up in front of my woman's house."

"It didn't blow up…and shouldn't you go put my fuckin' car out and make sure it doesn't?"

"Relax, will you? No fluid under the engine, don't think the tank's cracked. Hey…" he stopped mid-sentence and waved at the upstairs window. "Your boy's watching."

"I know." Emma smiled sheepishly and offered a small wave back at the child, who was clearly fascinated by the excitement one floor below. Regina stood behind him, still scowling.

"I _am_ sorry," he sighed, patting her on the shoulder. "That was one beautiful car."

As Pete walked back toward the scene, Emma took it all in and tried to fight back sudden tears. Thick streams of water tamped down the flames curling out of the windows, only to find them shoot up again in another area, any exit that provided oxygen. The air was almost choking - acrid, thick with the smell of fire, smoke and chemicals, the loud thrum of the fire truck's diesel engines idling almost making her chest rattle.

"Hey! Over here!" yelled one of Coggins' men, directing a new hose to another hot spot…

_"I said over here!" Emma grinned, waving at Robert wildly. The tall man approached, preemptively shaking his head. "This one," she said, determined. "I want to test drive this one."_

_"Alright!" the saleswoman enthused. "I'll go get the keys!"_

_Robert chuckled low. "I bet she will. You wanna go for a private test drive with her? 'Cause whatever you sellin', she buyin.'"_

_"Pfft, she's not gay."_

_"How do you know?"_

_"She didn't set off the super-secret gay gadget detector they gave me at the orientation."_

_"Maybe she's flexible? She is flirting with you."_

_Emma eyed the red head as she busily grabbed paperwork across the show floor. "She is cute…and she's trying to sell me a car. Anyway, I want this car."_

_"You haven't even driven it yet. And it is bright, fucking, douche-bag yellow. Are you serious?"_

_Running her hand along the roof, Emma smiled. It was so ostentatious, so loud and brassy. For anyone who knew Emma, it was the last car they'd ever associate with her. But something about the Mustang called to her the moment she hit the lot. She'd come in to test-drive a pick-up or SUV, the vehicles of choice for nearly every officer she knew. But the minute she walked into the show room, the muscle car drew her attention like a sparkler._

_"Who's ready for a ride?" the red head purred as she swung the keys off one finger._

_Emma opened the passenger-side door and waved an arm in invitation: "After you…"_

XXXX

Ninety minutes later, the fire was out and the scene clear. The 100 block of Mifflin Street had returned to normal for 3:47 a.m., save for her car, a burnt-out shadow of itself, nearly all yellow either burnt or covered in soot and ash. The scene smelled like a campsite the morning after a big bonfire, with a harsh mix of chemicals sprinkled in. Pete, his truck and crew were gone, Emma's overnight officers also back on patrol, with nothing of interest gained from their canvas of the neighbors.

_The neighbors…shit. I'm gonna have to bake or do some shit to make this up to them._

Emma walked through the front door, wondering about the status of her family. The last time she looked the upstairs window was empty; Regina must have put Henry back to bed. In our bed, likely, she laughed to herself. _All I want is a shower, out of these gross clothes and some sleep._

She stopped short, mid-thought, surprised to find Regina sitting on the stairs, a duffle bag at her feet.

"Hey, I—"

"Get out." The command was cool, emotionless.

As Regina had watched the scene unfold from her bedroom window, suddenly everything snapped into focus and made sense - Emma's protectiveness, the pepper spray, stress-smoking, working out with Bell, "police stuff." Something was going on, something dangerous that was now practically at her doorstep. She was more than hurt, more than angry - she felt stupid. And if there was one thing Regina Mills hated, it was feeling dumb. She couldn't decide which enraged her more - her inability to piece together obvious clues or Emma's concealment of the truth.

"What?"

" _Get out._ Cars don't just blow up in the middle of the night. You're obviously lying to me about something."

"It didn't blow up! And I never lied to you."

Regina rubbed her face with her hands. "Your car caught on fire. In the middle of the night. In front of my house. _Where our son is sleeping._ What's next, Emma? The house? When's the next time you're going to lie to me? In Henry's hospital room?"

"Jesus Christ, no!"

She stood and kicked the bag over to the blonde with the side of her foot.

"Obviously something is more important to you than Henry's safety."

"That's not true! I'm doing this for his safety, for _your_ safety!"

"Doing what?"

"I…" Emma hesitated just enough.

"Get out." She pointed toward the door. "Do not contact us. The uniform won't work this time."

Cold dread sat at the pit of her stomach, her hand paralyzed, unable to reach for the bag. "Please, let me explain, honey…I…I love you. Everything I've done was because I love you."

"If you really loved me you would have told me the truth. I mean it, Emma." Her final command issued forth in a steely hiss: " _Go_."

Emma opened her mouth, but no words ushered forth from vocal chords that seemed to painfully tighten at the same rate as the tears pooling in her eyes. Hanging her head, she sagged as she reached for the bag's handles and walked out the door. She never heard Regina fold in half on the stairs and sob silently into her knees.

Emma was trying to figure out what in the hell to do when she saw a grey Honda Civic pull up behind the Mustang. She squinted, surprised at the identity of the driver.

"Bell?" she asked through a squint. She sniffed and wiped teary eyes with the back of her hand. "Fucking smoke," she lied through the open passenger window.

"Hey."

"Why're you here?"

"Heard the horn, went back to sleep. Woke up again and caught the tail end on the scanner. Caught the fire channel. Man, Pete loves to talk. I never heard a person yak so much on a scanner. Anyway, get in."

Lacking a better option, Emma did and found a large travel mug pressed into her palm. "Figured since you were already up…"

"Thanks." She took a long sip, the warmth of the liquid softening the bite in the air. "Mmmm, this is good. You make this?"

"Yeah. I'm a coffee snob, get it shipped in, bean grinder, the whole works. Don't tell Granny."

"Heh."

"You going in?" She nodded at the house, politely ignoring the duffel bag that sat on the sidewalk.

"Uh, no." The syllable had just enough of an undercurrent of "Don't ask" that Bell didn't.

"Well, good thing I came. We can watch things, hang out."

"You sure you want me in here? Your car's gonna smell like fire. I don't think anything else is gonna happen tonight…" _but I'll be damned if I leave them_ was left unsaid. "You don't have to stay, I got this. Hanlon's on, he'll be doing extra passes."

Bell giggled. "He couldn't find his dick with a map, you think he's gonna pick up on any trouble?"

"Excellent point. Alright."

The pair sat in silence for a minute or so, the mix of smoke and chemicals still thick.

"I'm sorry about your car, it was a sweet ride."

"Yeah," Emma sighed. "It was."

XXXX

Bell and Emma sat outside Mifflin Street all night. They talked and shared war stories until the dawn broke and Emma was dropped off at her apartment.

"Get some sleep," she smiled as she shut the door. "And thanks."

Not giving a shit, she crashed on the bed still fully clothed and slept until 1 p.m. She woke, confused: _Why am I at the apartment?_ Instinctively she reached for her phone to call Regina, when suddenly, horribly, the events of the night came crashing down, a terrible ache throbbing in her chest. _Oh, God, no._

After a shower, she called Slater who had not one, but two shitty pieces of news to share: No, he couldn't put Regina and Henry in protective custody ("She's too high-profile, it'll screw up the deal. You think I can suddenly have extra cops hanging around Storybrooke?"), and the deal in question had been pushed back. It was now 10 days away, according on their informant.

"Fucking hell, Tim, why don't you just tell me my dog died, too?"

"Lucky you don't have one, the way you're going…"

Fifteen minutes later, County Fire Marshal Mike Price called, armed to harass: "Where do we tow this briquette?"

"Very funny, that's my car."

"That was your car. Someone done set it ablaze," he drawled in his best backwoods twang.

"You're a skilled investigator."

"Cause of the fire was 'accelerant,' if you were curious."

"What kind?"

"Gas and oil." He paused, almost in admiration at the fire bug's thoroughness. "Molotov cocktail. Three of 'em. Someone does not like you."

"You done?"

Call thankfully complete, Emma sat on her bed and wondered what the hell to do. She needed to keep an eye on Regina and Henry, but had no car. She couldn't call Kathryn or Ruby. Robert was working… _Plus he'll goddamn I-told-you-so for an hour straight._

A tiny ray of hope pierced the dark, the only good feeling she'd had in 12 hours. She had an option and it wasn't a bad one. Picking up the phone, she dialed: "Hey…give me a ride to Augusta? I need to rent a car."

XXXX

Across town, the day was going equally poorly for Regina Mills. Upset and numb, she uncharacteristically allowed Henry to watch as much TV and play as much iPad as possible to stave off the inevitable questions about his Mom's whereabouts. Kathryn called late morning, as soon as she heard the news.

"Are you OK?"

"I don't know" came the monotone reply.

"Where's Emma?"

"I don't know. I kicked her out."

 _Jesus fuck. What the fuck is going on?_ Kathryn wondered dumbly.

"Is she OK?"

The answer was the same, but the intonation soft and incredibly sad: "I don't know."

"Do you need me to come over?"

"No."

"I'll try not to be offended at how quickly you answered that." The deadpan was almost enough to crack Regina's despair.

"Want me to take Henry?"

"No, we're fine."

"Are you sure?"

Regina sighed, long and loud. "I'm not sure of anything."

The sun had set in the early evening as Regina walked by her study window and started, heart in her throat, at the sight of a car at her curb. Grabbing the phone, she rushed to Henry and killed the living room lights. Peering out of the window, she dialed 911 as Henry laughed: "Why we hiding?"

"Ssshh!"

"Storybrooke Police, you're being recorded…"

Regina opened her mouth to speak and suddenly made out two shapes in the car, both topped with blonde hair.

"Hello? Storybrooke Police, what is the nature of your emergency?"

"Uh, yes…" Regina began, rattled. "This is Mayor Mills. I apologize, my son dialed you by accident. There is no emergency."

"Very good, ma'am, have a good night."

"I didn't call on the phone!" Henry exclaimed with a giggle.

"I know, sweetheart, I…misspoke. I'm sorry. Want some dessert?"

Outside in the Civic, Bell and Emma watched the lights turn on again.

"I think we've been made," the young officer snorted, as she took a bite of her sandwich.

"I wish you would have let me rent a car."

"You need someone to watch your back."

"My back is fine."

"Your back is old."

"Wow. Cocky."

"It's the lack of sleep and abundance of caffeine."

"I told you, you don't have to do this."

"I want to. No one messes with my Chief." Emma had to hand it to Bell, not once had she asked what was going on, why her car was torched or why she was persona non grata at her fiancé's house.

"Will you at least call me 'Emma'?"

"No. Again, you're my Chief." The gash in Emma's heart ripped wider every time Bell used the title; all she could think about was the 4-year-old she wasn't allowed to see. "Plus, stakeouts are fun."

"Stakeouts are overrated."

"Nah…we can braid each other's hair and you can tell me what the '80s were like."

"No more coffee for you."

XXXX

The stakeouts - and caffeine - continued for three days. Emma and Bell worked during the day and sat in the Civic at night, taking shifts sleeping and watching. Every night Regina looked out her window and found her private security waiting, for God knows what, silently. She slept with her son in her bed, a bat at her bedside and pepper spray under her pillow, nonetheless. Neither woman made one advance toward the other, and neither slept well.

At 6 p.m. the second night, Emma was just tucking into a salad in the passenger side when she spotted a flash of red in the rear view. She whipped her head around to find Kathryn Midas pulling up behind the Civic, face set determinedly. In an instant, the blonde was curling herself into the back seat.

"What the hell's going on?"

"And good evening to you," Emma greeted calmly between bites. "You know Officer Bell."

Tucking into her own salad, Bell mumbled mid-chew, "Hey."

"Hey, yourself, your sub sucks."

Bell swallowed and eyed her student in the rear view. "Sorry, busy this week. Better than canceling class."

"So, what's up?" Emma offered lightly, pretending she wasn't dying to pump her friend for information.

"What-the-fuck what's up? You tell me!"

"I'm gonna go eat outside," Bell noted as she opened the door and caught Emma's eyes. "Wave a hand if you want me to taze her or anything." She leaned back in and glared at Kathryn: "Your ass is mine when I'm back in class."

Door shut, Kathryn dove in. "Seriously, what is going on? You're out here like some stalker each night, Regina's a fucking wreck. And, wow, you look like a hot bucket of fuck."

"I can't believe you're in charge of 600 kids."

"I mean it, _what is going on?_ "

"Ask Regina."

"She won't tell me."

"Then that makes two of us."

"She really kicked you out?"

That one hurt, there was no joking around in the answer. "She did," came the quiet, serious reply.

"Did you cheat on her?"

Dark laughter filled the small space. "Are you nuts? With who? Who the hell is better than Regina? She's, like, everything." Wistful eyes gazed at the house.

" _Emma,_ for fuck's sake, _fix this._ " This was serious, Kathryn rarely called her by her given name, preferring a parade of put-downs and bawdy nicknames.

"I can't, she doesn't want to talk, told me to not even try." She paused, a pipe dream popping up. "Can you talk to her?"

"What do you think I've been trying to do? This is the first time she's let me come over since this went down."

"You're going in there?" Green eyes practically overflowed with yearning.

"Yeah."

"Let me know how Henry is."

"She's been telling him you've been working."

"Oh."

"He really misses you, though."

"Tell him I love him." Emma stuttered, emotion cracking her voice like a 13-year-old boy.

She nodded, suddenly too moved to joke. "Will you be OK?"

"Yeah."

"You've got the tiny assassin, I suppose you'll live. This car's probably tricked out like the Batmobile knowing Bell. Fucking missiles and ejector seats and shit."

Kathryn was trying to exit the car when she felt a hand grab her forearm. "It's not living without her." Tough facade cracked, Emma was a shell of herself.

"I know. I'll do what I can."

"Kathryn?" A blonde head dipped back in. "Thanks."

She nodded and headed up the walkway, door opening before she even took the stairs. _Well, that answers that._

"What was that about?"

"I was checking on Emma."

"Why?" Regina's eyes were narrow and filled with hurt and a hint of suspicion.

"Because she's my friend." The brunette scoffed and headed for the kitchen. "And she's my godson's mother." The statement stopped Regina in her tracks; she turned slowly. "C'mon, dinner's getting cold."

XXXX

On the fourth day Regina caved and called the one person she knew could help. She couldn't live like this - equally angry at and longing for the woman who slept in a car outside her house each night. There was no way she could Skype this conversation, she knew she'd be crying eventually.

"Hi Mama," she greeted quietly, words suddenly hard to speak.

"Regina, what's wrong?"

Three words were enough to send the brunette over the edge, tears and sniffles rolling in. In fits and starts she explained what happened, supportive mmm hmmms peppering her retelling of the events.

When Regina was finally silent, the older woman spoke. "Emma hasn't called me, and I doubt she called Robert. If she did, he would have told me. All I know is your side, but I agree with you, keeping whatever this is from you was wrong. But think. Ignore the anger, the hurt. Why would she do that?"

Regina thought. "Because…" she sighed, frustrated. "I don't know."

"Think."

She tried again, but this time her view had shifted, she saw the thread that ran through her fiancé's actions. "Because she wanted to protect us?"

"Listen, I know that doesn't excuse what she did. It doesn't. She was wrong, but she was trying to do right. She's just not good at it like you and me, she's had very little practice."

Regina stayed silent, still trying to process the other half of the puzzle.

"I love you and I love Henry no matter what you decide. But at least know that she was trying to do the right thing in her mind, it was just the wrong way."

XXXX

Emma walked the aisle of the IGA, trying to pick the evening's dinner for her and Bell. They'd had salads, subs and paninis so far. _Maybe tonight we'll order a pizza._ Mind made up, she was walking toward a shelf of bottled water when she was stopped in her tracks.

"Emma?"

She turned at a quiet, quasi-familiar, definitely worried voice to find…

"Liz. Hey."

The tall brunette approached, brow furrowed, and rested her hand on Emma's bicep. "Are you OK? I heard about your car."

_Shit._

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks."

"What the hell happened?"

Emma lowered her voice. "I can't talk about it. I'm OK."

"Jealous girlfriend?" A smirk curled up lush lips at one corner.

A genuine chuckle bubbled up from Emma's throat, the first remotely light emotion she'd felt in what felt like forever. "I wish, right?"

"Emma." The blonde's head spun just in time to see Regina march up determined and grab her hand. She eyed Liz defensively, as if the tall teacher had just interrupted her conversation with Emma instead of the other way around. "Hello, Miss…"

Emma bit back a smirk, she was certain Regina knew the woman's name.

"McKenzie," Liz supplied, offering her hand. Regina shook it for the sake of diplomacy, but was insanely angry knowing it had known Emma intimately.

"Regina Mills." Emma watched her girlfriend stare daggers at her former lover. She cleared her throat to break the silence.

"So, Liz here was just checking to see if I was OK, which I am." She was practically in a daze, not only seeing Regina and hearing her voice, but feeling her hand's possessive grip.

"I loved that car," Liz noted sweetly. "It was a lot of fun." Regina's lips were set in a thin, tight line, Emma could practically hear teeth grinding. The frontal vein on an olive forehead began to bulge.

"Thanks, uh, a lot. We have to go." Emma practically yanked Regina out of the store and toward the cruiser when the brunette stopped.

"No, my car." She pulled them toward the Mercedes and got in. "We need to talk." Emma watched the scenery pass, wondering where they were going, surprised to find themselves wind up at the docks. Regina exited the car without a word and sat on a bench facing the marina.

"I used to like to come here, to watch the boats. When I wanted to think." April was veering close to May, the unofficial start of summer. Several boats were already uncovered and in the water, pulled out of their winter shrink wrap; more would follow quickly. Assorted banging and hammering filled the air as boats were prepped, weekend sailors scampering back and forth from the dock to the deck, down below, then back again, the screech of gulls objecting to anything and everything.

Emma took a seat and nodded, she didn't know what to say. "Do you need to think now?"

"Yes." She looked straight ahead, back ramrod straight.

"OK."

Hands brushed accidentally, Emma seizing on a chance opportunity. "Can I…"

"Yes."

The pair sat and held hands in silence until Emma couldn't wait any longer.

"Are we…" Heart in her throat, she spied Regina's naked ring finger.

The brunette loudly pulled in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, a move that filled Emma with dread, fearing the worst.

"I love you. I want to marry you, but on one condition: You have to let me in. You have to give me 100%. I know you've been a lone wolf for your whole life, darling, but you're not anymore. You have…" a small grin arose. The cold panic that had seized Emma's entire body suddenly melted away. "A pack. Henry and I are your pack. If you can't accept that all the way - not try to shoulder burdens alone or keep me from worry, I can't…" Her eyes teared at the very thought. "If you can't at least start to work on the concept of being with me completely - like I am with you - then I can't marry you."

"I'm not good at this…" Emma began, her own sobs cutting off her declaration. Regina had seen her love cry before, but this was a heart-wrenching, gut-twisting sob. "I…–"

"Sssshhhh." A blonde head immediately lay in her lap. Regina glanced around, thankfully no one was paying any attention. "You don't have to be perfect, my love, you just have to try. You'll get better with practice, I promise."

"I was so worried, so worried that I would lose you forever. That the best thing in my life would go away despite the fact I tried to do the right thing. At least I think it was."

"It was very noble. But it was also very stupid." Long fingers rubbed strong arms, then withdrew, one hand disappearing into the neck of her buttoned-up blouse. It reappeared holding the necklace Emma gave her for Christmas; nestled up against Henry's small rock on the chain was the engagement ring.

"Are…are you sure?" Emma stuttered. "You don't know the whole story yet."

"I am. I trust you."

Emma released a shuddering breath and reached around to undo the chain, removing the ring and taking her fiancé's hand. Locking eyes, she held one hand and returned the ring to its home. "I will do this right, I promise," she breathed.

The women embraced on the bench, relishing the physical contact, the feel of each other that they had been denied for too long. Eventually, Regina withdrew, inhaling in an effort to bolster her confidence to pose the question she knew she had to ask: "Now, tell me. What the hell is going on?"

Emma did. She started with the car explosion and worked backwards. When she was about to reveal the genesis of the problem, she took Regina's hands. Red lips parted in shock and horror; it was time for Emma to do the comforting. Like a scab reopened, hurt, anger and sorrow seeped out once more in a steady flow. Regina had many questions - and many tears - Emma providing whatever answers she could. When they ran out of both, they rose hand-in-hand.

"Can you drive?" Emma giggled inappropriately, emotions still in riot. "I don't have a car."

Regina smirked back, eyes red and watery, the makeup around her eyes smudged in some places, gone in others, revealing the bags that the past few days had wrought. She slipped on a pair of large black sunglasses to hide the Sunday morning walk-of-shame look and leaned in, gently kissing Emma for the first time in four days. Eyes closed, she breathed in Emma's scent, the words "soft," "strong" and "home" instantly coming to mind.

"I've got you. Let's go get our boy."

Wrung out and spent, they headed to pick up Henry. On the way, Emma sent one text: **No stakeout tonight. Thank you for everything. I owe you.**

As they walked into the sitter's home, Henry looked up at the greeting, "Hey, bud", brown eyes blowing wide.

"MOM!" Sprinting across the living room he launched himself into Emma's arms. "I miss-ded you!"

"I missed you, too," she mumbled into the top of his head, reveling in the feel of his small body melded into hers. "Let's go home."

After a home-cooked meal - _Thank Christ,_ Emma thought - the Swan-Mills clan picked up where they left off, back to the everyday tasks of laundry, shopping lists, and haranguing Henry to pick up his cars. But that evening, interspersed with the minutia of family life, were more questions. They fell out, out of sequence or order, randomly out of nowhere as the night went on. When Regina thought of one, she asked, and Emma answered to the best of her ability.

"You really hit Edgar?"

She was laying in their bed holding Regina, Henry bookending his mother on the other side as they quickly folded to his pleas to sleep in "the big bed." She had been touching, holding and caressing the brunette since the moment they left the docks, as if she could make up for the time they spent apart.

"And how. Sucker-punched him." Emma almost laughed, the mismatch in the garage comical. "And I would think he's on crutches now as I took out his knee."

"Do you think that's why they blew up your car?"

"I'm sure it was a factor." She turned, serious. "I don't know what they're going to do. I'm worried - and I'm never worried."

"Well, tomorrow we can call your friend in the State Police and get an update. And maybe Officer Bell could come stay with us, if it would make you feel better. We have the room."

"I'm sure she would, I don't know if I feel comfortable asking. I don't want to put her in a target for a personal thing, you know? Plus, like, I'm her boss and this is my home life."

"At least it's an option."

"True."

Silence set over the room, Henry's light snoring the only noise as the couple fell asleep.

XXXX

The next morning, Henry was busy eating his weight in pancakes, his mother not far behind, when the doorbell rang.

"You expecting anyone?"

Regina shook her head.

"Stay here."

Gun at her side, Emma approached the door silently, heart racing, muscles as tight and unforgiving as a thick metal chain pulled taut. She could practically feel her trapezius constrict on cue. If the Pines were going to spring another assault, she knew it was unlikely they'd politely ring a bell, but it was no time to relax or assume. She peered through the peephole and immediately sagged, shocked.

She swung the door open, mouth agape. A giant, hulking figure carrying a duffel bag in one hand and a sawed-off shogun in the other loomed in the threshold.

"Seriously, this is fucking Canada, right?"

**TBC**


	21. Chapter 21

"Ding dong. Professional badass at your service, ladies."

The trademark snark, expletive or insult - or combination of all three - was on Emma Swan's lips ready to launch, but whatever she was going to say died in her throat. Instead, she lunged for her best friend and threw herself into his arms, which were too laden to hug back, and squeezed tight.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What is this?" Robert looked down, shocked. "Mightyfine! Your woman's finally snapped!"

The brunette's mouth, open in surprise, was quickly replaced by a wide smile. "Robert! Oh my God!"

He soon had company around his middle, which then grew by a third as Henry flew out at the sound of his voice: "Unca Robert!"

The women finally released their friend, both smiling.

"Your lover's spat resolved?"

They nodded. "You lesbians and your drama, I swear…Alright, enough of that crap, we got a truck to unload."

"What's going on?" Emma finally woke up to the realization that Robert was here. In Storybrooke.

"Tiny Bossman, go get your clothes, I need your help."

The boy flew out of the room, thrilled, tossing an elated "OK!" over his shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing with that?" Emma asked wide-eyed, clueing into the shotgun. "You pull that off someone?"

"Nope, custom made, just for me."

She held out her hand for the weapon and inspected it, finding a tiny cross etched where the receiver met the stock. She smiled.

"What?" Regina asked, lost. "Where on earth would you get that? That looks like the most illegal thing I've ever seen."

Robert and Emma laughed. "That's because it is. It appears as if Mr. Preacher obtained this definitely illegal, incredibly lethal weapon from an associate of ours in town, Bucky Barrett."

"Bucky is a CI with the Feds and an all-around dangerous pain in the ass." Robert took the gun back and cradled it under his armpit. "But he's handy at times."

"What's a CI?"

"Confidential informant."

"Professional snitch," Emma clarified.

Robert chuckled and nodded. "But, all in all, quite skilled at making weapons of midsize destruction."

"Do I want to know what you had to do to get him to make it for you?"

"Let's just say I made a persuasive argument…oh, wait!"

Robert reached behind his head, and down into the back of his jacket, pulling out another shotgun. "I had him make one for you!" he noted merrily.

"Nice! Wait what is the deal with…?" Emma motioned her hand up and down the length of his body.

"This old thing?" He tugged the lapels of his black, floor-length trench coat.

"You look like Laurence Fishburne in The Matrix."

"I look like Neo! You're racist!" He turned to the brunette, trying to fight off the smirk that was creeping up on the corners of his mouth. "You're aware you're marrying a racist? All this time in Honkeytown is affecting her urban sensibilities."

"Did Bucky make that rig?" Emma pointed to the leather shotgun holster, straps of which ran over Robert's wide chest and allowed the weapon to rest on his back, grip up.

"Yeah, it's sweet, huh? He modified it to accommodate the, uh, unlawful length of this piece."

"Very nice. I want one."

"I asked, he said your boobs'd get in the way."

"Dammit," Emma whined.

Both officers turned when they heard Regina make a grumbling sound halfway between a concerned moan and a tsk. "Those make me nervous."

"Her boobs? I'd a think you'd be quite fond of them by now."

"No!"

"Thank God, I was worried," Emma laughed.

"No, _the guns_. Those big guns."

"Well, they should," he rumbled low, throwing an arm around her shoulder. "But that's why I brought a gun safe." He jerked his head toward the door.

Emma opened it and spied a large rectangle poking out of the open hatch of his Avalanche. "You brought a _cabinet_ gun safe?"

"Oh, yeah, and it weighs a fuck-ton. Oh, sorry, baby." He dipped his head apologetically at Regina. "I hope you've been eatin' your Wheaties, Swan, I need your help with it; put those studly biceps to work."

"Can you come in, sit down, first? Are you hungry? I'll go make something." Anxious, Regina decided to retreat to what made her comfortable and what she knew: food. Before she left to make good on her intentions, she stood on her tip toes and put her hand on the side of his face. He leaned down so she could buss him on the cheek. "Thank you," she said softly, brown eyes wide, soft and relieved.

"For you? Anytime. For that one? She gon' owe me."

Emma punched the man in his arm as her fiancé walked away. "Ow!"

"Seriously, you think we need this?"

"Wait, first… _I told you so._ " A wide smile of white, even teeth appeared.

"Fuck off," Emma smiled.

"OK," he chuckled, "hadda get that out. Now, serious." Robert leveled her with a grim look, an event about as regular as her desire to sleep with a man. "I talked to Dugs, who talked to his captain friend up here."

"Slater."

"Right, listen, these psychotic hillbillies are fucking bad news. I love you and I love your woman. And I love that little son of yours."

Emma opened her mouth to interrupt but was cut off before she could utter a syllable.

"I will not let anything happen to any of you, and if that means coming up here with a fucking tank I'm gonna do it." He exhaled. "You can't handle these lunatics alone - not even with your people. You're just not equipped for it. Hell, I'm not sure the National Guard could handle these fuckers. Let me help you. If not for you, then for me, I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing you're up here solo. Does Regina know about them?"

"Yes. But up until now they've pretty much kept to themselves."

Robert snorted. "Yeah, cause everyone let them do what they want." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Unless she asks, don't fill her in on the gory details of exactly how dangerous they are. I don't want her to have to worry more than I'm sure she already does."

"I won't lie to her. She knows what they're capable of. Intimately."

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying: Don't crawl in bed and tell her tales about how they're all inbred, or the father fucks the kids, or they traffic women down from Canada to whore - in addition to all the thieving, drugs and assault. Got it?"

"She doesn't _need_ to know their family particulars, I'd agree."

"Does she know about the duck?"

"Yeah."

He giggled. "That's some Mafia shit right there. Gotta admit I was impressed."

"I fucking screamed like a girl when I opened that box."

Robert chuckled and slung an arm around strong shoulders. He pulled her in a half-hug and walked her toward the kitchen. "I would have, too, baby. I would have, too."

He joyously announced their arrival, just outside the kitchen, as Emma heard Henry hopping down the stairs.

"MIGHTYFIIIIIINE, what is that delicious aroma I smell?"

XXXX

After breakfast and unloading, the three adults sat in the backyard watching Henry scamper around his swing set like a mouse on Ritalin.

"Unca Robert, look how high I swing!"

"Whoa, man, be careful, you're gonna scrape the sun." He took a deep breath in and enjoyed a lungful of clean air. It was a gorgeous day, lows 60s, cotton ball clouds dotting the bright blue sky here and there.

"You have a beautiful life, I want to keep it that way," he informed his friends. "And that may have been the most ridiculous car on the planet, but it was _your_ ridiculous car. No one messes with you, or your family, or your ugly-ass vehicle without answering to me."

"So what's your plan?"

"Listen up, children…"

The outline was rather simple: For the next week, Robert and three of Emma's former colleagues would pair off and provide security/backup in 12-hour shifts. Two guys on, two guys off. Her old Major had approved the trip under the table - and under the unofficial guise of "interstate field training."

"We were due for that, anyway," Robert explained. "And he says if you wanted to express your gratitude he wouldn't be opposed to receiving lobster, and I quote, 'None of those chicken-ass ones.'"

"Noted."

"Who's coming up and when?"

"They should be here by tonight, and it's Marty, The Boy and Tanner."

Emma laughed. "Friggin' Marty? He's not retired yet?"

"Where will they stay?" Regina interrupted, head whirling, ground shifting under her feet.

Robert smiled. "Here, of course. If you ever wanted to run a frat house, this is your chance."

"We have the room," Emma reminded.

"No, right…of course."

Emma reached over and held Regina's hand gently, thumb stroking slowly. She could tell the brunette was barely keeping her head above water. To her and Robert, all the talk of guns, ops and scumbags was second nature, but to a civilian - one hosting said activity in her home, no less - it was a whole new, scary world.

"Who wants a drink?"

Robert and Emma's heads turned in unison. "It's 11 a.m., sweetheart."

"Bloody Marys, then?"

"I would like that very much," Robert smiled. "You realize that if you keep feeding me and liquoring me up like this, I won't want to leave."

A small smile finally softened taught lines on an olive face. "We've talked about having another child."

"Boom!" Emma roared, Robert joining in.

"Well-played, baby, well-played."

"I'll have one too, honey. Want some help?"

"No, you stay and…plan."

As Regina walked into the house, Robert leaned over: "She freaked out, eh?"

"Yeah."

"Can't blame her, this is some deep water for a first-timer."

Emma hummed in agreement, catching Robert's stare.

"You know what else is part of the plan..."

She knew immediately, it had been a thought in the back of her head, one she tucked back hoping it would disappear. She looked away, as if that would derail the conversation permanently, guilt and fear stabbing at her chest.

"No."

"Look at me…our biggest weakness is Little Man, you know that."

Emma nodded solemnly. _Don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry._

"You know what you have to do."

"I can't do that to her. To him."

"And the alternative is better? These freaks don't mess around."

Tears pooled in her eyes. "But where? Regina is gonna die. This is all my fault."

"Send him to Mama. You put him anywhere around here, someone's gonna find him. Mama'll take good care of him; she can bring him to school with her. And she knows her way around a shotgun."

"What is it with you and shotguns?"

"They're _effective_. I'll make sure some of our friends in the area patrol around my folks' place regularly, just in case. He's not safe here, Emma. You know that."

There it was, her given name, again. She sighed, long and dejected. "I do. Do me a favor?"

He leaned in.

"Can I tell her tonight, not right now? Give her just a little time? She's getting bombarded with all this - you're here, the guys are comin', us turning this place into a fort. I worry we're gonna push her over."

Robert folded his hands and brought them to his lips. "Alright, but you tell her tonight, we set things up with Mama tomorrow, and we get him to her next day."

"We're going all the way to Concord?"

"Nah, I can get her to come to up a bit, we'll do a drop."

"That's my son you're talking about," Emma noted archly.

"I _know_ , that's why this is so damn important."

"Sorry."

"'S alright." Stretching out long legs, he leaned back in the Adirondack chair, eyes closed, tilting his face to the sun. "'S alright."

XXXX

Regina noticed Emma's mood had shifted after she returned from the house with the drinks. The blonde's smile didn't quite reach her eyes; she assumed the facade of a fun visit from Robert had shattered, the real business at hand presenting itself.

Later, as they moved back into the house, Emma piped up.

"If the guys are coming tonight, we should make them dinner," she noted.

"Good point."

 _This. This I can do_ , Regina thought. "What do they like?"

"Everything. Why don't we have your one-trick-pony fiancé make her pasta and I'll teach you my secret sauce."

"Pffft. You read it in Good Housekeeping! It was Shelia's copy for God's sake. Some _secret_."

"Shelia?"

"Marty's wife. And, whatever, your girl's just jealous my sauce kicks her sauce's ass." He stood, poking Emma in the arm. "Getcha move on, Mama Celeste. Let's all go to the store, get some groceries. We gotta stock up for those chow hounds."

"Won't that…" Regina didn't know how to continue her thought. "Won't we…stick out?"

Robert shook with laughter.

"No!" She tried to explain further. "I mean, are you supposed to be a secret, staying here? Is that part of the plan?"

"I don't think we're going to be able to keep this one under wraps for long," Emma noted, suddenly giggling herself. "Do you think Henry's preschool has a book that covers this? Henry Has Two Mommies and a Big Black Uncle With a Shotgun?"

"Yeah." He tried to wipe the moisture from his eyes, still laughing. "I don't think y'all bein' gay is suddenly the most exotic thing about you two anymore. Now you're, like, poly swingers."

"Wow, look at you with the lingo."

"Hey, I read…"

The quartet did indeed catch a few stares at the store, but returned to the house to start prepping the meal - and the house. Henry would sleep with his mothers, his twin sheets changed. Emma figured none of the guys would want to sleep on Lightning McQueen sheets. Regina aired out the guest bedroom, then headed for the kitchen to help Emma and Robert.

"That's only two beds," she noted, squinting. "Where will the others sleep?"

"We'll hot bunk it," Robert noted. "We only need two."

Regina pinched the bridge of her nose, the question soon to follow.

"He means two of the guys will be on duty, the other two sleeping," Emma supplied. "You think the news's gotten to Ruby yet?"

"Mmmm, I would think. There's a direct line between Michelle at the IGA and Ruby."

" _Ruby?_ Who's she?" Robert smiled lecherously as he chopped tomatoes. "She sounds like someone I want to meet."

"She's married.

Emma looked over with a stern glare. "No. You meet no one."

"C'mon, there gotta be some lovely ladies who would cotton to such a smart, attractive man as myself."

"No way."

"Sweetheart, grab me the oil, please?"

Emma grabbed the bottle and handed it over. "Yes, my Queen."

"Oooohh, look at Swan all domesticated. _I like this._ Swan, wash my shorts!"

"Piss off," she whispered.

"I wanna be King!" Henry made himself known, looking up from his cookies across the kitchen.

Regina glanced over her shoulder, smiling so warm and wide it made Emma's heart hurt. "You're my prince, darling."

"Yeah, I'd be King," Emma noted, sliding over to bump Regina with her hip, "'cause I rule."

Robert shook his head and snorted. "Sure you wanna marry that, Mightyfine? I can find you a nice, polite _lady_ down in the great Commonwealth."

Hands messy from chopping herbs, Regina leaned over and pecked Emma on the lips. "I'm sure."

XXXX

Sauce simmering, pasta dry and hanging, Emma glanced at the clock wondering where the hell her friends were when the doorbell rang. Nervous excitement mixed with relief tickled the pit of her stomach.

"Calvary's here!" Marty Galvin enthused, clapping the blonde on the arm as he invited himself in. "Mmmm, what smells so good?"

"You dopes get lost? Where ya been?"

"O'Boy's got a baby bladder. Hey, Preach."

"Martin." Robert reached over and performed the universal handshake-one-handed-man hug.

Pulling away, he turned toward Emma, seemingly always-red cheeks blazing away on his fair face. "Swanny."

"Marty, thanks."

"Swag-a-lagga!" Regina stood at the edge of the commotion, watching it all unfold. A tall, muscled towhead bounced through her front door beaming, making a bee-line for Emma.

"Blackie!" she smiled. Another one-arm hug issued.

Regina leaned into Robert. "Why the nicknames?"

"Macho police bullshit thing."

As the officers got reacquainted, shaking hands and clapping each other on the biceps, a young man laden with luggage made his entrance.

"Where do you want this, Sarge?"

"By the stairs," Robert directed.

Dropping the gear, he turned and greeted Emma. "Hey, Cap."

"Hey, kid," she nodded, shaking his hand. "Thanks for comin'."

"No problem, these old farts don't know how to work any of this stuff."

As the men in question barked offended in the background, Emma chuckled. "Growing a set? Proud of you."

"Hi, I'm Jim." He held out his hand to shake Regina's. "Jim Bakowski."

Marty rolled his eyes while Robert dropped his voice as low as it could go and imitated: "I'm Jim."

"Ha! That's O'Boy," Marty corrected.

"And that is courtesy of Marty's rule that everyone be Irish," Emma noted.

Bakowski was known as The Boy, O'Boy (especially Marty) or Kid because at 25 he looked 16.

"You still don't look Irish," Emma quipped, the joke old but still valid - that kid looked young. He was fit but reed thin, 5'8" maybe 130 soaking wet, all coiled muscle. The hair he had left was light and brown, shaved into a high-and-tight regulation cut. But his face was still amazingly young-featured. _How is it he looks younger than the last time I saw him?_ Emma wondered.

"I'm black Irish," Robert clarified.

"Marty, why are you bringing The Boy out on this?"

"Cap's decision. We got in a bunch of new equipment that needs a field test. Hence our field trip."

"Listen to you, 'hence.' That Word-a-Day calendar's paying off man." Marty turned and punched Tanner in the arm.

"Hi," Tanner stepped forward his arm still stinging. "I'm Pat, nice to meet you."

Regina smiled nervously, returning the gesture. "Why do they call you Blackie?"

"Ah," he snorted. "It's short for Black and Tan. You'd think 'Pat' would be Irish enough for Marty, but I guess not."

"Plus, we like to confuse people 'cause they always think it's referring to me," Robert chuckled.

Regina turned toward her fiancé with a narrow gaze. "And why did he call you…swag-a-something?"

"Oh, that's just a version of Swagger, that's my nickname for her," Tanner explained proudly, without thought, chuckling at memories that instantly roared back. "Swan and I, we'd go out after work and she'd…"

"Ahem!" Emma cleared her throat with a sharp cough and urgent gaze.

"Yeah, uh…I just like how it sounded," he finished nervously.

The squat, white-haired man pushed through the huddle, arm extended. "Marty Galvin, nice to meet you, dear." His thick Boston accent stretched the last word into four syllables: _dee-yah_.

Regina found herself smiling without thought, a kind, casual warmth rolled off the older man prompting her response. "Regina Mills, thank you for coming."

"You're welcome, love." He gently patted their joined hands with his free one. "Swanny, your wife needs a nickname! Can we call you Gina?"

Robert laughed as he watched Emma and Regina's eyes widen at the same time, twin horrified looks on their faces. They barked in unison: "No!"

XXXX

A home previously short on testosterone was now swimming in it, a fact that left Henry Mills in his glory, following around the tall, raucous men like a puppy dog. He tailed any man he could find up and down the stairs, excitedly showing them his room - "You can borrow it!" he enthused. "I'm gonna sleep in my moms' big bed!" - and "helping" them unpack and set up. Emma's heart squeezed as she recalled him hugging her around the waist as she walked out of the kitchen just before dinner: "Mom, I like these big boys!"

She nearly laughed at the ecstatic expression on his face during dinner, head swiveling non-stop from man to man during their conversations, a giant grin plastered in his fair face, as if he couldn't bear to miss a syllable.

"Aren't your families wondering where you are?" Regina asked, refilling her wine glass. Robert eyed the motion - it was her third by his count - and raised an eyebrow at Emma, who nodded. _I know. I see._

"Are you kidding? Shelia's thrilled I'm out of her hair," Marty said, lifting another forkful of pasta to his mouth. "This is delicious, by the way."

"Hell, Mama practically packed a bag for me and gave me gas money."

Tanner laughed at his ingenuity: "I told my girl you both looked like East German power lifters."

"You better hope she can't Google, you big dumba—" Emma stopped as she caught her son's bright, eager eyes. "You big silly."

Looking green at the thought he added: "Unh, yeah. Anyway, who's on tonight? What's the plan?"

XXXX

With Henry finally settled in their bed - after a piggy back ride up stairs from Robert and a high five from O'Boy, Regina and Emma were free for the night, relatively speaking. Tanner and O'Boy were on 7 to 7 - armed and awake, waiting and watching for any trouble, Robert and Marty already in bed as they were taking the day shift. The women could relax and go to bed after the whirlwind day, but Emma's mind was racing. She had to break the news about Henry's impromptu vacation, and it felt weird knowing her friends were sleeping right down the hall, not to mention the other pair roaming the house and the grounds armed with guns, radios and flashlights.

"Hey," she began softly, rubbing Regina's shoulders from behind. A head topped with sleek, black hair lolled back onto Emma's chest.

"Unnnh, that feels so good."

"I need to talk to you."

Regina turned around slowly, the words seeming to snap her back into semi-sobriety quickly. The tone and hesitance sparked dread into her chest. "What?"

"I…" The women sat on the edge of the bed, Henry lightly snoring to the north. "Henry is in danger."

Regina barked out a cruel laugh. "I know that, don't you think I know that?" she hissed defensively. "We're _all_ in danger."

 _And there's the wine._ "No, I mean…he's in danger more than us. Robert…and I…we're worried the Pines will make a move on him, try to take him because he's our biggest weakness."

"My son is not a weakness!" she spat.

"That's not what I meant, and keep it down," Emma urged. _Dammit, I wish I hid that wine._ This was already going to be a brutal conversation, but the alcohol made it that much worse. "I'm not saying this right. What I mean is, from a defensive standpoint, Henry is our vulnerability; we love him more than anything and they know that. I'm worried they would try to hurt him to get to us…to me."

Emma hung her head, dejected at the worry she had brought upon her family. When she glanced up, Regina looked pale as a sheet and nauseous.

"We have to get him out of here, send him to a safe location until this is finished."

"No." The word was cold as ice and has hard as cement.

"Regina, he—"

" _I said no._ If he goes, I go."

"You can't, it's too obvious, they'll notice you're both gone and look for you. And tactically it's a nightmare."

"I don't fucking care about your goddamn strategy, Emma." The blonde's eyes widened, she had never heard Regina curse. "Come up with another plan."

"But I—"

"What part of 'no' don't you understand?" she jeered. "I am his mother…" Remaining words caught in her throat as she looked at his sleeping form, messy brown hair askew on the pillow, limbs splayed to all four corners of the globe. The thought of being separated from him, for even a day, produced a sob from her throat. "He's not going anywhere," she declared regally. "Figure out something else."

She rubbed his blanket-covered leg as Emma rose to go wake Robert and think up another plan. She got as far as the doorway before she stopped and turned.

"No."

Regina looked up with a squint. "Excuse me?" she snapped.

"I said no." Emma walked back to stand at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, voice low and urgent. "Listen, you wanted 100% from me - the truth? This is it. Our son is in danger - and if those freaks want to get to Henry, they will, even with Delta Force down there. The only way to ensure he will not get hurt is if we get him out of here, somewhere safe, with someone we trust."

Emma knelt on the floor, her hands on Regina's knees. "If you love me and trust me 100%, you'll agree. Robert has a plan, and it's a good one. It will only be for a week. He can go to Mama's. He'll have so much fun."

Regina looked at Emma's pleading face and began to quietly sob, head bent, shoulders shaking. Gently moving damp hands, Emma enfolded the woman in her arms, rubbing her back and whispering soothing sounds into her ear.

"I'm so scared," she cried into Emma's shoulder. "I'm just so scared."

"I know, honey, I know. And I am so sorry. I never wanted this for us. But it's here and we have to face it - together. We can get through this together."

Emma pulled away and gently wiped tears from Regina's face. "And when this is all over, we're home-free and our biggest danger is that bachelorette party in our future." She smiled to sell the joke, Regina nodding, tears streaming.

"I can't let him go, Emma. I just can't."

"I know sweetheart. I know." Regina sobbed again in her embrace. "But you know we have to do this, right?" She felt the brunette nod again wordlessly, her breath ragged and hitching.

Henry Mills' mothers fell asleep on either side of him that night, a protective arm from each making their way over his torso as they all slept.

XXXX

The following morning was a relatively normal Monday for the Swan-Mills household, save for the four men who joined them for breakfast with sidearms on their belts, and a slightly hungover Regina, who looked like she was going to break down and cry at any moment. A grinning Henry, blissfully unaware of matters at hand, sat in-between Tanner and Robert like a tourist staring up in awe at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial.

Meal over, O'Boy and Tanner headed upstairs for bed, Robert tailing Regina as she dropped Henry off at preschool, then to town hall where he'd surveil from his truck. Marty was left in charge of the house.

"What about me?" Emma whined with a smile.

"What? You forget how to use a gun, Mrs. Cleaver?"

"That reference is as old as dirt," she laughed as she walked out the door. "Just like you."

The morning was almost like any other, work proving a halfway decent distraction for Regina until her cell rang just before 11 a.m.

"Ms. Mills? It's Katie from preschool."

"Hi."

"A Joseph Swan tried to pick Henry up from school early today, he said the Chief sent him because she was tied up. But he's not on your pickup list, he didn't know the password, and Henry didn't recognize him. I came back from double-checking the list in the office and he was gone."

"Henry?" Regina shrieked in terror.

"No, no, sorry! The man was gone. Henry's right here. Do you know that man?"

"No! Don't let him out of your sight!" she barked, already at a sprint for the door, blowing by Laura without explanation. "Call the Chief, I'll be right there!"

Regina ran out the door and over to Robert's truck.

"What?" he asked urgently as she hoisted herself in, breathless.

"Henry! They tried to take him at school!"

Keys already in the ignition, Robert gunned it and took off.

"Did you call—" His question was cut off by the blare of a siren; the pair watched Emma's cruiser fly by at the cross street two blocks up. "That answers that. Hold on."

Robert screeched to a halt in the middle of the school's parking lot, Regina clambering out before he was even at a full-stop. They rushed inside the building to find Emma hugging the life out of a confused Henry in the office.

"Henry!" Regina choked out, throat tight.

"Why you here?"

"We wanted to get you out of school early." Robert smiled brightly through the lie trying to sell nonchalant normalcy, relief finally settling in his chest.

Emma kissed the top of Regina's head, then left the embrace to give the brunette her turn.

"That man said you sent him to pick me up," Henry declared with big, trusting eyes.

"He was, uh, wrong, bud. But we're here now, we're going to take you home, go have some fun."

"Yay!"

XXXX

By midday, Henry's bag was packed and loaded into Robert's truck. They sold the trip to Mama P's as an adventure, or at least Emma and Robert did. Regina nodded and forced a smile, trying not to cry. She sat to his right, holding his hand in faux excitement, hoping the positioning would keep him from noticing the tears welling in her eyes.

"Mama needs some help down in her school and she asked if you'd come help," Robert enthused. "You're the only one who can do it."

"Yeah, we don't know anything about preschool, but you're an expert! We thought you could go down for a few days, have some fun with Mama and Daddy P and then we'll come get you!" Emma prayed she was a good actress.

Henry watched the pair, eyes still and narrow, then broke out in a wide smile. "OK!" He turned to the one person who had yet to speak. "Is that OK, Momma?"

"Of course, love." Regina hugged him to her chest, tears now overflowing her bottom lids. "I'm so proud of you. You're wonderful." Her low voice choked on the last word. "I'm going to go start packing." She rushed from the room, lest the boy see her condition.

The trip south was quiet, save for Robert and Emma fighting over radio stations in the front seat. Henry napped in the back, lulled to sleep by the thrum of the truck engines. Regina held his hand the entire way.

When Henry awoke, they had stopped at the pier in Old Orchard Beach, Mama P's silver BMW by their side.

"Henry! Are you ready to have some fun?"

"Yeah!" He climbed out of his car seat and headed for the backseat of the other car, Emma emerging after pulling the straps of a loaner car seat tight.

"Do you think you could help me with this? I can't figure it out, and I know a smart guy like you can." Out from the front seat, the older woman produced the ultimate distraction for any child: an iPad.

"Wow!"

"Now you hug your mamas before you get in."

Emma forced a tight smile, refusing to look at Regina; she knew if she took one glance at her fiancé, they'd both collapse in tears and all their gut-wrenching acting would be for naught.

"Love you, bud. Be good for Mama. We'll see you in a couple of days." She released the boy and turned into Mama P's arms, something whispered in her ear. Emma nodded and waited at the periphery.

Robert picked up Henry and hugged him tight. "Now, you take care of my Mama and I'll take care of yours. Deal?"

Henry nodded with a huge smile. "Deal." Robert turned, kissed his mother on the cheek, then stepped back.

"Be good, Henry. Have fun." Regina Mills had been through some difficult situations in her life, but none - save for one - was as hard as speaking those words to her son without breaking down. "I love you, baby."

"Love you, Momma!" He climbed into his car seat and snapped himself in. Regina pulled the straps tight, kissed him on the forehead one last time and turned to find Mama P in her path.

She hugged Regina, who was holding on by the thinnest of threads, and whispered in her ear. "I love you and I love Henry, and he will be safe. I know you're dying, baby, but hold on for 5 more minutes. Don't let him see you cry. Let Robert and Emma take care of you - then you take care of them. You all need each other. We all need each other. Got it?" The older woman felt Regina nod, then pulled away.

Regina walked to Emma and grabbed her hand, forcing her lips up in a smile as she waved at Henry as the car pulled away. Through their clasped hands she could feel Regina shaking, but her attention was pulled by a blue Cadillac 50 yards away, which suddenly roared to life, turned on its headlights and approached, following the path of the BMW.

"What the—"

"It's OK," Robert soothed. "I arranged a little escort just in case."

As the car rolled by, Emma saw the driver flash Robert the thumbs up, then flip her off with a smirk on his face. It took her a second, it had been a while since she saw Danny Duggan.

"Hey," Robert laughed. "He likes me. Now, c'mon Miss Daisies, get your asses in my truck and let's so settle this shit."

XXXX

Life settled into an unconventional pattern over the next three days. The men ate and drank in shifts, Emma and Regina attempted to pretend life was as normal as ever, despite the fact their home had been turned into an armed barracks, gear and guns in every room. If they didn't have Henry at the moment, a fact that made them ache, at least they had each other.

But the manpower was working; everything was quiet. No visitors, no calls, no firebombs, not even a raccoon overnight. A check-in with Slater revealed the Pines were rather quiet as of late on his end, a fact he attributed to them gearing up for the impending shipment and perhaps intimidated by her personal security detail.

The days had turned so uneventful, in fact, that Marty had decided to play Mr. Fix-It, doing odd jobs around the house, and took to making dinner, "given you girls work all day." He rehung a loose gutter, tuned up the lawnmower, made a mean chowder and, one night at supper, had his sights on another task.

"Swanny, that is one pathetic tank in your boy's room."

"What are you talking about? It's clean. And don't let his godmother hear that, she'd kick your ass, she gave it to him."

"Oooh," Robert chimed in. "Who is this ass-kicking godmother?"

"Kathryn. And before you ask, absolutely not."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, whatever you're thinking No."

"I'm offended. Mightyfine! Emma's offending me! In your house."

"It's my house, too."

"Not yet, baby."

Regina walked in from the kitchen with the rest of the roast. "Yes, children? And Marty? This roast is fantastic."

"It's the gravy, there's like half-a-bottle of wine in there!"

"I want to meet Kathryn."

"Oh… _oh._ "

Emma nodded, triumphant. "Ha!"

"Well…"

Green eyes widened in panic. "No! Are you insane?"

Suddenly under the focus of four men and her fiancé, Regina faltered slightly: "Who wants seconds?"

XXXX

Something was up. That Kathryn Midas knew for sure. And, worse, it was something her best friend had decided to hide. She had spoken with Regina after she and Emma reunited, but in the days since, the woman was obviously avoiding her. She didn't answer her house phone; the only luck Kathryn had was with her cell, and even that was in text messages.

**What is going on? Where the hell have you been?**

_Nothing. We're just busy._

**Your office said you weren't in yesterday.**

_Not feeling well._

**Want me to come by with some soup? I'll get it from Tuckers.**

_No, I'm fine. Emma's here._

_Bullshit,_ Kathryn thought. _She never turns down soup from Tuckers_. She glanced at the clock. As soon as her after-school meeting was done she was getting answers.

"What the hell is that?" Later, across town, Emma Swan found a new addition in her kitchen.

"I couldn't stand looking at that travesty of that tank anymore. I switched shifts with Blackie, and O'Boy and I went to Augusta, got you fixed up." Emma nearly laughed at his version of the state capital, which came out _A-gust-er._

"That old tank was too small and that poor fish had no friends. Look, we got one for all of us."

Marty pointed to two clown fish, "There's Regina and Henry. And there's you." A bright, yellow fish swam by.

"Well, I see 'Robert'," she laughed. Emma pointed to a big Black Molly.

"You some racist Swan."

The doorbell rang, interrupting further fish introductions. "I got it," Robert announced low. One hand near his waist, he peaked through the peephole, then opened the door with a smile.

"Why, hello," he purred.

The woman who usually had something to say about everything walked through the door, unsure and silent - until Emma entered from the other side. Kathryn simply rose her eyebrows, the question clear.

"These are my friends, they're…up here…for a visit."

"Uh huh." She eyed the giant man up and down. A small smirk grew. "Kathryn Midas, Regina's best friend." She extended her hand. "You must be Robert."

For the sake of chivalry - or just to drive Emma into a stroke - he took her hand and kissed it.

"Regina!" Emma bellowed urgently. "Kathryn's here."

She leveled a gaze at the pair. "Jesus Christ on the cross, no!" A finger waved between them. "No way."

"Emma!" Marty scolded as he walked into the foyer. "Not the Lord's name."

She couldn't help but laugh, with his thick accent it came out _Lahd_.

He shook his head. "I can't believe the language on you girls today."

"God, Marty, I'm not a girl, I'm a cop."

"She got you there, man."

"Alright, but you know my rules. Anything but the Lahd's name."

"This isn't your house, Marty, Jesus!" He narrowed his eyes. "I mean, dammit," she grumbled.

Regina descended, looking guilty. O'Boy right behind her, he jerked his head up in a silent hello and headed into the kitchen.

"What is this sausagefest? Did you two suddenly swing the other way?"

Marty blanched and headed for the stairs. "I'm gonna go lay down for a bit. Come get me when the buzzah goes off."

"You're Henry's godmother? Emma, why didn't you tell me about her?"

"For this very reason, you ass."

"Well, as Henry's godfather, I am disappointed." All three women stared at Robert, mouths open. "I appointed myself. Does he have one?"

"Uh, no," Regina answered, head spinning.

"Well, he does now, I just saved you a step." He turned to Kathryn. "So, as godparents and, I assume, we're both in the wedding…" he turned to the engaged couple, who nodded dimly, "we need to get to know each other better. You will stay for dinner."

"Regina…" Emma warned.

"I'd love to stay," she glared daggers at her best friend, "if that's OK."

The brunette watched the pair size each other up. It was like witnessing a car crash. "Of…of course."

"Regina!" Emma tugged on her blouse to no avail.

"What's for dinner?" Kathryn asked, "It smells delicious."

"No idea, whatever Marty whipped up. It's in the oven. He's a crazy old mick but he sure can cook."

"I don't know about you, but I need a drink. I assume Regina's box of wine is still half full?"

Robert laughed, deep and melodious. Kathryn's eyes widened at the rich sound. "I like you. Maybe you can enlighten me, but I cannot figure out why a classy, gorgeous, smart woman like Mightyfine would slum it with wine you could buy at a truck stop." He took Kathryn's hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm as they began heading toward the kitchen. "Although she does have questionable taste in some areas."

"Hey!" Emma interjected.

She turned to Regina, stunned, and for the first time in their relationship, swore in her presence: "We're so fucked."

After dinner Robert insisted on walking Kathryn to her car.

"You're an evil woman, Kathryn, I like you."

"You're not so bad yourself. They're watching from the window like grandmas. Wanna get 'em?" His teeth looked blazingly bright in the low light. "On the cheek."

"Fair enough." He leaned over and pecked the woman, swearing he heard a muffled shout from inside the house. She smelled of a light ginger, and her neck looked like a long, porcelain column he wanted to lave. "When all this dust settles, I would like to take you out to dinner. Unless there's some fisherman up here who would kick my ass for suggesting such?"

"There's no man, fisher or otherwise."

"Woman?"

Kathryn barked out a laugh. "We're not all gay up here! No woman, either."

"Then it's a date?"

"Sure. Don't get killed."

"Baby, that's my No. 1 rule every day." He walked back into the house whistling, no mean feat with a shit-eating grin on one's face.

**TBC**

**Author notes:**

**1\. I had no intentions of Robert uttering, "I told you so," but many of you asked for it and it worked, so I couldn't disappoint.**

**2\. Thanks to the Guest reviewer from last chapter who offered up the astute critique that Emma has backed down in every fight with Regina so far. It was a great point and led to some nice character development above. Thank you!**

**3\. I was crying and typing while writing the scene where Henry goes with Mama P. That's the second time I've cried while writing this story, I'm going soft.**

**4\. Next chapter is the thrilling conclusion to this story. We're coming in for a landing…**


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is not the final chapter, as I originally expected. This chapter ran too long to get in everything I wanted. There will be one more. Trigger warning: Threat of het rape.

Emma Swan didn't expect to get stabbed today, lying on the damp, spring ground simultaneously blazing hot and numbingly cold as Robert screamed her name.

Her lids refused to open, her teeth began to chatter, arms too heavy to move at her sides. She felt like she was lying still and yet sinking at the same time. And she wasn’t sure what worried her most, the blistering pain spreading under her chest or Robert’s voice rising to a near-hysterical pitch, one she had never heard before as he rambled promises, threats and pleas at her. She gave in to the sinking sensation as his shriek started to fade, like a TV being slowly turned down.

_“MARTY, WHERE THE FUCK IS THE BUS?”_

But that's the funny thing about stabbings: You rarely expect them.

**Three days earlier**

“So, what are you gonna get for a new car?”

Emma blew out an incredulous breath as she literally sat shotgun in Robert’s truck, his sawed-off lying in between her legs and the center console as they drove toward Storybrooke Elementary. Between that and the Glock on her waist, they were good, although she didn’t think a mobile ambush in broad daylight was the Pines’ style. Regardless, she didn’t want to take a chance.

“Are you nuts? When have I had time to even think twice about that?”

“If I lived up here I’d put a shotgun rack right here.” He patted the cab divider behind his head.

“You can do that at home, you realize.”

“Yeah, but it’s way cooler up here. _I like it up here._ ”

Emma squinted. “What’s this _up here_ shit? You? You stay _down there._ ”

He started whistling again, a tune with which he’d been driving her nuts all day. She’d been trying to place it and refused to give him the satisfaction of asking, until the lyrics flashed inside her head like a marquee: “I’ve got sunshine, on a cloudy day / When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May…”

_Jesus Christ._

“What are you playin’ at? ’Cause if it’s just to mess with me, stop. It’s unfair to her.” Emma’s head didn’t move as she made her declaration, but she caught a corner of his lips curl in the rearview mirror when he realized she recognized the lyrics.

She couldn’t believe the tone exiting her lips. _I sound like Regina._ But Kathryn was practically family, Emma knew the woman wanted a relationship, and if Robert was trying to incorporate her into some elaborate practical joke, well, that wasn’t cool.

“I’m not kidding.” Her best friend’s voice rang out, serious and a little hurt. “You know that’s not my style. I like her.”

“You met her once.”

“Yeah, but what a once.”

Thinking back to that night, Emma remembered how the pair had fallen into an effortless give and take, mostly giving shit to her and Regina and taking much joy in doing so.

“I just…” She wanted to object but couldn’t find the grounds.

“Hey, she’s perfect. She’s just like me — smart, quick and fine — but with all the good lady parts.”

“Stop talking about her parts, will you?”

“The thought of ’em’s gettin’ me through this little adventure of yours,” he smirked, pulling into a spot in front of the school. “I want this stupid shit settled so we can go on a date.” Robert chuckled, his friend looked pale at the thought. “What is your problem with us?”

“There _is_ no _us_! You met once.”

“But we’ve texted every day since.”

“I can’t fucking even…”

“Seriously, what is it? You don’t want her, too, do you? You realize you can’t have every lovely lady in Maine. Can’t hog ’em all to yourself, girl. Plus, I think Mightyfine would object.”

Emma tried to find an answer: What exactly was it that bothered her so? That was a good question. She ignored his continued monologue about “Queen of All Lesbians” and “sex harems” while she tried to devise an answer.

“It’s just…you’re so _you_ and she’s so _her_ , together you’re like, ammonia and bleach.”

“Did you just compare me and that beautiful person to a chlorine bomb?”

“Well, I didn’t mean it like that, exactly, it’s, like, you’re both so overpowering alone, what the hell would you be like together?”

Robert pursed his lips, voice quieting into rare sincerity, his features softening as he stared out the window. “Maybe together we would be, you know, enough; we wouldn’t have to be so… _us_.” Moment over, his face snapped back into his normal Teflon charm as he popped out of the driver’s side and started toward the main entrance.

“You never answered my question: What car you thinkin’ about?”

Emma jogged up to match his stride. “Maybe a Jeep? Subaru? Something cool with some power, like a WRX STI.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, no.”

“Shut your hole, we’re coming up on impressionable minds.” She pressed on the security bell and nodded at the duffel bag slung over her friend’s shoulder. “Do you really think this is necessary?” The muffled shouts, laughter and overall chaos of children playing sounded in the distance: _Must be recess out back._ Caught up in her own drama for days now, life upended, her son two states away, she nearly forgot the world kept turning, the sun came up, the sun went down, and children played at recess. Life goes on.

“Kathryn came to the house. I would assume the Pines know her relationship to Regina. She’s on their radar, I’m sure. You wanna roll the dice she isn’t?”

Emma shook her head as she heard the buzzer sound, heavy locks releasing, allowing them entrance. “Of course not.” Robert opened the door and waved her in first with a flourish.

Three heads snapped up from monitors and desks as they entered the front office; she had to bite back a chuckle at the surprised faces staring back. The school secretaries always seemed a little nervous around the Chief of Police. But now, accompanied by a distinctly un-Storybrooke-like visitor, well, this was a whole new level of unease.

Emma smiled warmly. “Is Principal Midas in?” She got a perverse thrill out of unnerving these women with her mere presence, or in this case, Robert’s.

“Yes, she is.” The cool, cautious voice of Kathryn Midas rang out from her office doorway, the subject in question casually leaning against the frame. Merriment twinkled in her eyes as she watched the awkward scene.

“Got a minute?”

Blue eyes narrowed as one eyebrow arched slowly. “I do, come in.”

Kathryn sat on the small couch opposite her desk, Robert and Emma each taking a chair as the latter closed the door quietly.

“To what do I owe this visit that will surely have my staff talking about all week?”

“Don’t we get snack first?” Emma teased.

“Your mother should have sent one in with you.”

Robert chuckled. _I like her so much._

“Doofus here wanted to see where you worked.” Robert waved with a wink, his wide smile bearing bright, white teeth. “And I wanted to drop off this.”

Emma opened the bag at her feet, removing an aluminum baseball bat and a pepper spray canister. “Sleep with that and that,” she ordered, handing them over. She pointed to Robert. “Not that.”

“Do I need this?” Kathryn blanched, natural bravado dimmed.

“I doubt it, but it wouldn’t hurt.”

“I offered to guard your body 24-7 but Swan declined on your behalf.”

“Ugh, man, gross.”

“So you’re worried about me, Emma.” Worry temporarily gave way to amusement. “You love me!” she teased.

“ _Regina_ loves you. And wants you in the wedding. And I will never live to see a wedding if anything happens to you. But, yeah, you’re OK.”

“Robert, Emma loves me.”

“She does. She’s a big ’ol softie under that mean butch exterior.”

Kathryn grinned, then eyeing the items in her hand, her face clouded over once more. “How bad is this?”

“Bad enough.”

“Seriously, what is doing on?”

“I can’t say, the less you know the better. Just keep everything locked, those by your side, and call us if you are worried about _anything_. I’d move you into Regina’s for a few days but I think you’re safer on your own.”

“Safer?” Lips parted in an O, her already fair skin seeming to pale a shade lighter. She knew something was going on, she knew Emma’s cop friends were up from Boston, but had no idea how dire whatever “it” was until there _it_ was, on her couch, in her office and she found herself clutching a bat and mace.

She looked over to Robert, hoping to see him break into another smile and a raucous laugh, signaling this was all some practical joke.

“It’ll be OK, Kat. We think this, um, thing is almost over. A couple of days.”

“Kat?” Emma’s eyes were nearly as wide as Kathryn’s upon hearing the new nickname. “Christ.”

“Well, I can’t call her ‘baby,’ not yet,” he smiled. “Not at least until I can take her out to dinner.”

“Eww, I’m outta here. You, uh, say your…whatever. My mind is fried. Meet you in the hallway. Gah.”

Emma slipped out of the office, shutting the door once more, Robert and Kathryn rising.

“It’ll be OK, I promise,” he assured, holding one of her hands in both of his, her palm and fingers swallowed up whole. “Call me if you need _anything_ , I mean it. If they didn’t need me at Mightyfine’s I’d watch your place but that house is so damn big we need two guys on a shift.”

“I can’t wait to hear what this is all about.”

He chuckled low. “Believe me, you could. And we’ll tell you everything when it’s all over.”

“OK,” she answered, clearly wishing he could do so now.

Robert leaned in, the scent of his aftershave warm and fresh in the space between them. “May I?”

“On the cheek,” she smirked, tapping the side of her face.

Bending to the correct height, he pressed a firm kiss, inhaling her scent. He had no idea whether it was her perfume or makeup or fabric softener, all Robert knew is he wanted more.

“Mmmm,” he smiled, leaning back. He squeezed her hand once and let it go. “Text you tonight?”

“You better.”

Exiting the office with a grin on his face, the officer caught Emma and the secretaries giving each other the side eye. “C’mon sunshine,” he whispered. “Time’s a wastin’.”

****

“HI MOMMA! HI MOM!”

While the separation was killing his mothers, Henry looked better than ever on the other end of the monitor, aside from the ring of chocolate around his mouth and his need to shout at the Webcam.

“What’d you have for dessert, bud?” Emma laughed. She felt Regina squeeze her hand as they looked at their joyous son.

“Nana made pudding!”

Regina’s jaw dropped silently while Emma was so shocked, she couldn’t help but giggle nervously. “Nana?”

“Mama, what are you up to?” Robert sidled up just in time to hear the happy news.

“Unca Robert, I seep-ded in your bed!”

“Hey, that’s cool. Good job!” he enthused. The tall man’s tone dropped into a near-warning. “ _Mama?_ ”

“He doesn’t _have_ a grandmother, does he?” The older woman dipped her head with a smirk.

Emma turned to gauge her fiancee’s reaction. She loved the Preachers, but knew they were of the “it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission” mentality, and was unsure of how that would play with Regina.

“I…no, he doesn’t,” she smiled softly. “I never thought he would.”

“Well, he does now,” Mama P declared, amending her statement meekly upon seeing Emma’s raised eyebrow. “If that’s alright.”

“It’s lovely.” Regina grinned and shook her head with a laugh.

“Are we sure this whole Pines thing isn’t some elaborate ruse so she can get into the Nana business?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Robert snorted.

Emma felt Regina’s warm hand squeeze in affection once more as Henry launched into another excited shout: “MOMMA, LOOK WHAT I MADE AT NANA’S SCHOOL!”

****

“Are you sure you’re alright with the whole ‘Nana’ thing?” Emma folded herself into bed as Regina deposited her iPad and glasses on the nightstand and rolled into the blonde’s arms.

“I am.” She chuckled at the brazen move, surprised at how alright she was with it. “Mama is something.”

“Are you sure? I can talk to her if it’s too much.”

Regina tucked herself tighter into her fiancé, lips softly sucking on Emma’s neck, the scent and taste relaxing her more than any drink or drug. “Mmmm,” she hummed. “I don’t want to talk about Mama right now.” Worries and anxieties that preoccupied and paralyzed her for days faded, just enough to make way for a familiar desire, one in which they had not indulged since the night the Mustang burned.

Emma unleashed a very low, definitely dirty, chuckle. “Yes, ma’am.” Rolling onto her fiancé, she snaked her arms up Regina’s sides, lightly grabbing her wrists and guiding them to the slats of the headboard, where long fingers gripped, taking the hint.

“Why don’t you ever leave your glasses on? Gives you this whole sexy teacher vibe,” Emma smirked, pleased with herself as deft fingers slowly unbuttoned Regina’s soft pajama top, lips and tongue hotly christening newly exposed skin inch by inch.

“And would you like that…Miss Swan?” The question was purred, silky and deep.

“Unnnn…” Emma groaned at the authoritarian tone, desire ratcheting up several degrees with the thought of a little dramatic playtime. Parting the now-open shirt, Emma’s mouth found an inviting breast and got to work.

“I didn’t hear you, Miss Swan.” The title spilled out with an almost regal hiss of disdain as a hand guided the blonde away from her work, lifting her chin. Emma wasn’t sure if her lover was going for disappointed teacher or angry monarch, but either way it did the job. “Enunciate.”

Lips were wet and shiny; she lifted them off Regina’s chest and found brown eyes, now covered by thin, black frames, hooded in lust, staring impatiently. “Well?”

The haughty tone and acidic delivery were like gas on a fire, Emma’s sex beginning to throb in waves of hot, thick need. Resting her pelvis on top of Regina’s, she laid the length of her lover and dropped her lips to an ear. “I want to fuck you,” she breathed, grinding their cores together, Regina lifting off the bed to meet each teasing thrust.

Emma spied Regina’s long fingers gripping the headboard so tight they were white. The sensations so delicious, she tilted her head back, momentarily forgetting her power play, so Emma could lave the expanse of skin.

Tongue hot and insistent on an olive neck, the quiet sounds of sucking, soft moans, and rustling clothing sounded gently until Regina remembered the initial challenge. She rarely took the lead in bed, and had never been one for role play, but decided now was a good a time as any to try. Quietly removing her hands from the headboard, she hugged Emma around the shoulders and flipped her on her back, reversing their positions, arms bracing on each side.

“Oh, no, Miss Swan,” she breathed, pelvis pressing slowly, firmly into her partner. “I want to fuck you.”

Emma’s green eyes were so lust-blown, Regina almost laughed, biting her lip to maintain her angry authoritarian persona. Hands started at Emma’s bare shoulders and slowly caressed downward, feather light touches teasing the sides of her torso, ghosting over attentive nipples and sensitive breasts, then making their way to the edge of the black tank top. A slim finger wiggled under the shirt, the tiny contact feeling blazingly naughty against firm abs and the dip of her belly button.

“This has to go, Miss Swan,” she huffed, stroking lightly.

“Yes…ma’am,” came the breathy reply, the brunette’s lush lips curling at the deference.

Sitting up just enough to remove the offending tank, Emma quickly shucked it to reveal a smooth expanse of fair skin that nearly made Regina’s mouth water. Pert breasts, those abs, and a soft swell south of the belly button; the brunette wanted her lips everywhere at once, but was snapped out of her planning with a quiet question.

“What about you?” Emma reached up to push the unbuttoned top off Regina, but her hands were shooed away and swiftly returned to the headboard slats with a cluck of a tongue.

“Uh, uh…my clothes stay on, silly girl,” she smirked wickedly. “Now, dear, you do not move your hands, do you understand?”

Emma nodded, pushing up for more contact with Regina’s groin.

“I can’t hear you, Miss Swan.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she gritted loudly.

“Sssshhhh.” Regina laid her torso on top of Emma’s, opening the sides of her top to ensure they were skin to skin, breasts rubbing teasingly against each other. One hand placed itself on top of Emma’s on a slat, the other languidly moved up and down one side of her body, leaving goose bumps in its wake. Lips pressed themselves against Emma’s ear, breath hot and insistent. “You must be quiet. Your friends are on this floor, in this house, awake and listening for any noise, any movement.”

The couple was used to the necessity of quiet sex with Henry in the house, but this was different, Regina deliberately trying to make Emma lose control in the exact situation where she couldn’t.

The hushed commands, role playing, and the necessity for silence were turning Emma on beyond any level she could remember. All she could smell was Regina’s skin and her own arousal, a combination that made her eyes nearly roll back in her head in torturous stimulation. When she felt her lover’s free hand venture toward her underwear, Emma spread her legs wide and planted her feet flat on the bed in complete surrender.

“They absolutely cannot hear how wet you are,” Regina husked in her ear, finger tracing the outside of Emma’s sex, dipping into slick heat for a quick tease and pulling out quickly. “They cannot know much you want to come all over my hand.”

The blonde bit her lip, a low whine escaping, her hips bucking to increase contact with Regina’s taunting finger.

Emma turned her head, trying to get Regina to look her in the eye. “Please.” The request was spit through clenched teeth.

A dirty chuckle rumbled. “Please what, dear?”

“Please fuck me,” she mewled as quietly as she could, slippery, hard, and desperate for any friction she could find, “…ma’am.”

Still lying skin to skin under Regina, Emma could feel her lover purr in satisfaction. “Deferential, I like that. But, my girl I can’t see what I’m doing, do you think you could help me?”

“Anything.” The response was immediate and beyond desperate.

“Very well,” she sighed, as if the act were a chore and not the one thing she wanted to do more than anything. “How is this?” Two fingers traced the outside of Emma’s sex.

Hips angled off the bed. “More, please.”

“What about this?”

Fingers explored warm, wet flesh as hips rolled trying to direct them into the desired location. Muffled grunts sounding approval. “Unnnh, yes, more.”

“Ssshhhh, you’re getting loud.” Regina lifted her lips from Emma’s ear and planted them on her mouth, tongue working in concert with her fingers. Emma bucked and groaned, Regina swallowing her moans as fingers finally found their rock-hard destination, the other hand still anchoring the blonde to the headboard.

Hips lifted so frantically the bed frame started to creak as Emma’s cries were buried between her lover’s lips. And then, everything stopped.

“Give me your hand,” Regina commanded, soft but firm, leading it into her underwear. Uninterested in teasing, Emma marveled at how aroused her lover was, Regina jerking like a live wire at her touch. She got straight to work, caressing and rubbing in time with Regina, their mouths meeting feverishly, each grunting and moaning into the other, the need to keep quiet only making the act hotter and more difficult to conceal.

Regina pulled her lips away panting, each racing toward a spectacular climax, torsos sweaty and sticky under the dual exertion. “Don’t…uhn…don’t…” she panted, unable to form a sentence with the delicious sensations assaulting her synapses.

Emma glanced at her lover and spied those glasses, those fucking sexy frames balanced on the brunette’s nose, head back, eyes shut, nearly breathless in ecstasy. “I’m gonna…” Emma gamely tried, “come with…” She buried her head in Regina’s shoulder, trying to muffle the uncontrollable noises leaving her lips.

“Fuck, so...dammit…fuck…God…”

Both women came hard — more forcefully than either could remember, shuddering, jerking, tensing, muscles tight, voices straining to subdue their almost violent release with an equally loud shout.

Each slowly withdrew from the other, Regina rolling off Emma and onto her back, both laying still and wordless, side by side, the only noise soft panting as they tried to calm their breathing.

“Holy. Fuck,” Emma giggled softly, blindly reaching for Regina’s hand, which she brought up to her mouth for a kiss. “Baby, do me a favor?”

“Hmmm?” The brunette replied, eyes closed, sounding breathy and almost high.

“Don’t ever take those glasses off.”

****

“This sounds really weird, but I’m having fun. Thank you for having us.”

Regina dipped her head as she stood next to O’Boy at the sink. The household had fallen into a surprisingly normal routine around shift changes and meals. Regina cooked, enjoying the distraction, as well as their enthusiastic, appreciative consumption of anything she made. “You don’t understand,” O’Boy explained days earlier. “When we’re on these type of jobs, meals are, like, Slim Jims and Doritos. This is amazing.” Everyone bussed their dirty plates and utensils, without fail O’Boy the only one who stayed to help clean.

“You’re not offended, are you? I’m so sorry, I—“

“No, no, I know what you mean,” she smiled, handing him a wet plate. “As odd as it sounds I’m enjoying myself, too. I like getting to know you all, you’re all an important part of Emma’s life.” She truly did, amazed at the blonde’s easy, immediate transformation into “one of the guys,” as light hearted as she had ever seen her, especially given the circumstances. “I do feel a little bit like Wendy with the Lost Boys, though.”

“Does that make Cap Peter Pan?”

Regina couldn’t hold back the giggle that escaped. “That’s eerily accurate, I would say. But I do like hearing stories about Emma when you all worked together.” She smirked, bumping his bicep with her shoulder. “Tell me another one.”

Now 5 days into what was supposed to be a 7-day adventure tops, O’Boy had shared a series of war stories about Emma, nothing too scandalous, no secrets, and truth to be told, nothing Emma would refuse to tell Regina herself. Yet she rarely shared stories about her time with the state police and Regina loved hearing them from what she quickly deduced was Emma’s No. 1 fan.

“I told you about Medford right?”

“When she was bitten by the pit bull?”

“On the bum, don’t leave the best part out,” he laughed.

“And the kid from Rozzie.”

Regina nodded, heart warming at the tale of how Emma slept in a chair all night with a little girl whose only parent had been in a car accident.

“She’s come through for us a bunch of times.” He looked over his shoulder to ensure no one was in earshot. “You promise you won’t let on you know any of this?”

“Of course.”

“This was before my time, but I heard Marty’s daughter had a bad drug problem. He and Shelia tried everything to clean her up but she couldn’t shake it until she OD’d and landed in rehab. Marty, he paid for it but wouldn’t see the kid until he was sure she was well on her way. He couldn’t stand getting his heart broken again, you know?”

Regina nodded solemnly.

“So when the girl gets out of rehab, she goes to a halfway house and gets a part-time job. Emma drove that kid to AA every single day for two months. If she was working and couldn’t get her to a meeting, Sarge would. Every single day, she checked in on that girl, got her to a meeting, sat in the car until she was done and drove her back to the house. Every day. The thing is, Marty never found out.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope, Cap made the girl swear she wouldn’t tell him, said he didn’t need to know.”

Regina felt her heart squeeze.

“She bailed me out once, too.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. One time, I met this girl and she was kinda…crazy. She was a real Badge Bunny, you know what those are?”

Staring straight ahead, Regina flushed and prayed he didn’t notice. “I’ve heard of them.”

“I was gonna have Sarge talk to her, tell her to back off ’cause, ya know, he’s scary when he wants to be.” The man laughed at the validity of the statement. “But Cap heard and said she’d take care of it. I don’t know what she said but the woman never bothered me again. I heard she moved out of state for God’s sake! Like, I didn’t want the woman bothering me anymore but I didn’t want her _traumatized_.”

Shaking his head with a smirk he placed the latest dry dish on top of the neat pile on the counter. “I figure half the reason why we’re up here is to ensure Cap doesn’t kill those guys.”

Regina stopped scrubbing a pot and returned it to the water, turning, brow creased: “You think she would do that?”

O’Boy barked out a laugh like it was the most obvious question he’d ever heard. “Kill ’em? In a second. Hell, she’d die for you.”

Stunned into a silence by a statement she knew was true, he continued. “God, one night some of us went out after work. We have a few rounds, watch the Bruins. We’re leaving and Sarge bumps into this guy heading out the door, crowded bar, total accident. No big deal, except the guy is a punk and whispers ‘dumb nigger’ under his breath. Cap heard it, holy God. We walk to the car and notice she’s not with us, then we hear shouts. She had split away from us, jumped the guy, dragged him into the alley and was beating him something fierce by the time we caught up. Guy had broken nose, blood everywhere.”

“Was she drunk?”

O’Boy shook his head, recalling the image of the wild-eyed, blood-spattered, panting woman. “That’s the thing. She had court in the morning and was driving us. She had one beer. She was out of her mind. We pull her off the guy, put him in a cab for Mass Gen, and toss fifty bucks at the driver.” He shook his head. “If we hadn’t stopped her, she could have crossed a line we couldn’t fix, you know?”

Regina’s eyes widened. “If she tuned that loudmouth up for a slur, God knows what she’d do to the guys who are harassing you. That’s really why we’re up here. Yeah, to protect you but, you know, to make sure Cap doesn’t end up in prison.”

“I can’t imagine her like that,” she breathed.

“And I couldn’t imagine her like this, someone’s mom, a wife, but look at her. Holy smokes, she’s like a whole new person. It’s, like, cute to see her like this, but man don’t tell her I said that.”

“Your secret is safe with me. And it is cute.”

“I bet she’s a good mom.”

“She is.”

“And god help any kid who messes with your boy.” He blew out a slow breath in fear for any unlucky soul. “Whoooo…”

“Heeey, what’re you girls talking about?” Emma barreled into the kitchen so quickly and loudly Regina and O’Boy jumped, water splashing, the man juggling a dish that nearly crashed to the floor. “Jesus, Cap!”

Pleased with her effect, Emma roared. “Lighten up, ladies.” Stepping behind Regina, she kissed her lover’s temple. “Kid, is this really Marty’s target from 200 yards?” She held up a standard bull’s-eye target, the center neatly shot out.

“Yup. We went this morning, found a range. But he had his rifle, so that barely counts.”

“You’re just jealous!” Marty announced walking in, Regina left wondering if everyone in the house had bat-like hearing. “I still got it, Swanny. And you never had it. Ha! I can put a bullet up a bug’s ass at 300 yards. Still.”

“’S true,” O’Boy noted, filling in the brunette. “Worked SWAT in town for years, taught marksmanship at the Academy.”

“I still teach there!”

“Alright,” Emma laughed, “easy professor, Jesus. You are the best shot I’ve ever seen. You happy?”

“Eh, whatever. Regina, got any of that cobbler left?”

Emma hugged the brunette tightly around the waist: “Yeah, Reginer, ya gaht any a dat cawblah?”

She wriggled out of Emma’s grasp with a grin in search of dessert while the blonde continued: “You better hope this wraps up soon. Marty. You’re gonna get tubby.”

“I heard cobbler,” Robert announced, joining them in the kitchen. “And what do you mean ‘gonna get’?”

“You two shut ya mouths.”

“Any word from Slater?” Robert took the dish off Regina’s hands while Emma grabbed bowls, the brunette amused at and loving how at home everyone had made themselves.

“Going down day after tomorrow, he says.”

“Well, alright! I best start planning my date!”

Emma grumbled low, refusing to take the bait and instead targeted the youngest in the room.

“That means your sewing circle’s gonna break up, Kid, you gonna be OK?”

“Mrs. Cap is very nice to me, unlike you losers.”

“Oooohhhh!” they howled in unison, Regina realizing one thing: She would, bizarre as it was, miss this.

****

When it went down, it did like it always does: quickly, chaotically, and rapidly sideways. It was 4:30 a.m. when Robert, Marty and Emma heard three short tones on the radios next to their beds and Tanner’s urgent voice: “10-33.” The officers, instantly awake after years of training, vaulted out of their beds fully dressed and were pulling on tac belts and boots when they heard breaking glass on the second floor. O’Boy chimed in, abandoning 10-codes entirely: “Fire. Repeat. House is on fire, exit through front. Two suspects on premises, rear of building…FREEZE!” A shotgun blast followed, then silence.

Transmission abruptly ended, Emma could hear Robert barreling down the stairs “Kid! What’s your 20?” while Marty burst through the master bedroom door, pulling night vision goggles over his eyes. “You get that?”

Emma nodded, now fully dressed: sweatshirt, pants, boots and belt.

“We gotta go! Roof’s on fire and something was tossed in your boy’s room and our bedroom. It’s going up. I got Regina, don’t know where the Kid is. Get out there.”

Now fully awake, Regina’s eyes were wide as she hurriedly threw on a hoodie and followed Marty, too stunned to even think to kiss Emma before she tore out of the room.

Laid out days earlier, the plan was simple: If the house was attacked, Emma, Tanner and Robert would play defense while Marty and O’Boy got Regina out safely and away from whatever action the Pines brought fourth.

Defend, don’t attack was the mantra of the day. “Otherwise, it’s so much friggin’ paperwork,” Marty noted with a shake of his head.

Regina’s heart clenched tightly as they passed Henry’s room, which was filling with smoke, flames licking at the floor, a large hole in what was his window. Smoke curled out of the guys’ guest bedroom, light from the blaze casting shadows into the hallway. Another shotgun blast cut the air.

“Is that us or them?” she asked shakily.

“Us. Those are the bean bag rounds, sounds different than a shell. It’ll stop ’em but not kill ’em…I hope. Paperwork.” They reached the landing and prepared to get to the first floor. “Alright, stay right behind me, quiet as you can, everything’s gonna be fine,” he assured as they crept down the stairs, shotgun leveled, unsure if anyone had made it into the house. Thanks to the Mass State Police, the goggles quickly detected the outline of a person he didn’t recognize coming out of the parlor with something in hand.

Marty leveled the 12 gauge and squeezed, the round thundering out, hitting the suspect square on the shoulder, spinning him to the ground with a cry.

“STAY DOWN, HANDS UP!” the officer yelled as he approached, loading another round, lifting the goggles onto his forehead. The man wasn’t moving, breathing low and shallow. “ROLL ON YOUR STOMACH.” Slowly and with a groan, he did just that as Regina approached, O’Boy coming in from the rear.

“You guys OK?”

“Yeah, get Regina out of here. Where’s the others? I need someone to haul this asshole out.” Marty crouched down and zip-tied the man’s wrists and ankles.

“They’re searching the grounds, trying to find the other two, we think there were three.”

Marty keyed the mic and barked: “Got one on the first floor. Tanner, get in here and pull him out!” The subject in question passed Regina and O’Boy as they walked out the front door.

“You OK?” he asked as they passed.

She nodded.

“TANNER!”

“Alright, coming, Jesus!”

The pair walked up to Emma and Robert, both looking pissed as they eyed the house. The roof was fully on fire, the second floor close behind. Regina walked up and hugged them as one, the wail of sirens inching closer.

Robert turned to Emma. “You call fire?”

“Nope.”

“Huh.”

Their attention was soon diverted to the front door as Marty emerged, Tanner right behind, the suspect on his back in a fireman carry.

“Really, Marty? Couldn’tve just done his wrists?” the younger man groused, depositing the suspect on the ground in front of them.

“Flight risk,” Marty smirked.

“You’re Peter Pines.”

“Yeah.”

“Where are your brothers?”

“Haven’t seen ’em.”

Lips curling in anger, Emma wound up to kick the man in the gut, Robert interceding at the last second, grabbing her and walking her away before she could launch. “Hey! Hey, hey, hey! That ain’t gonna help.” The group walked out of earshot leaving O’Boy with Pines.

“How do you know it was the brothers?”

“Just a guess.”

“Probably not a bad one.” Robert was cut off by Emma’s overnight officers running up the walkway. “Go talk to your men.”

Right behind her officers was Pete, sprinting up surprisingly fast, especially considering the 50 pounds of turnout gear on his body. “Emma!” he called, horrified. “Jesus Christ! Where’s Henry?”

He looked around, trying to get his brain to process the scene. The Mills house in full blaze, Regina hugging herself off to the side, protected by four men dressed like commandos, all wearing sidearms. _What the hell had she gotten herself into?_

“He's with friends, not here. No one else is in the house.”

“What the—“

“—I can’t get into it now. I’ll catch you up later.”

After giving instructions to her officers and handing over Pines, Emma jogged back to her friends and Regina, all off to the side, out of the way of the action. Robert removed the phone from his ear, hit a button and placed it back in his vest.

“Alright, I called Slater, SP’s on its way to the Pines compound or whatever, ‘bout an hour out. Some bad accident on 95’s got ’em tied up.”

“What?” Emma wheeled in a full rage. “Why would you do that?”

“’Cause they burned ya fuckin’ house down!” he shouted, pointing to the blazing building. “They tried to jack your ass! Tanner pulled this off the one Marty nailed.” He held out a military-grade Taser, surprisingly large in his giant hand. “They were gonna fuck you up, probably Regina, too. There’s only one reason guys like that carry something like this, wake up. Stay here with us and let them settle this.” A hard edge sharpened the normally easy-going voice. He was tired. He was frustrated they let the house catch fire. And he really wanted this all to end so he could go on a date with a certain blonde.

“No, I’m going.”

“To do what?” he snapped.

Regina watched off to the side, half fascinated, half horrified. She had never seen either so angry and definitely not at each other. “Are they…” she whispered to Marty, unsure how to phrase the question.

“They’ll be alright, sometimes they go at each other.” The answer tumbled out in a hushed rumble she could feel by her ear. “They fight like brother and sister. They’re pissed those hicks got the drop on us.”

She instinctively turned to Tanner for a second opinion. He nodded slowly.

Regina almost paid no mind to her home, her childhood home, burning bright, the early morning air acrid with smoke and ash as she watched two evenly matched forces of nature lock horns.

“ _I_ want to end this.”

“You’re being stupid!” he hissed. “Jesus, put your dick away, for chrissakes. They got this.”

Regina heard Marty suck in a sharp breath as Emma’s narrow eyes blazed in fury.

“FUCK!” rang out in sheer frustration as she turned and walked away a few feet. Tears threatened to spill over as she pondered the situation. Her car: gone. Her son: gone. Her home: going and soon to be gone by the looks of it. Smoke poured out of the second-story windows — their bedroom, Henry’s bedroom — as random flames tried to escape, fought back by powerful streams from fire hoses. Truck engines rumbled loud and low, shouts and directions from Pete and his crew piercing the air. She watched the ladder truck slowly extend skyward, the latest hose aimed straight into the window over the curved portico.

Lost in the destruction, Emma felt arms wrap around her middle and a head lie against her back. “It’s OK, it will be OK,” Regina soothed, punctuating her assurance with a squeeze.

And that was when Emma lost it, tears seeping from the corners of her eyes, running smooth and fast down her cheeks. “No, it’s not,” she tried to say, throat squeezed with regret. “Your house is destroyed. It’s all my fault. This is all my fault.”

She turned and buried her neck in Regina’s shoulder, sobbing. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I screw everything up.”

“Ssshhhh.” Warm hands slowly rubbed a back racked by shudders. “You did not. Everything is alright.”

“What? Your house…” Gutted and teeming by guilt, she couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“I don’t care about the house.” The reply was soft and soothing in Emma’s ear, a stark contrast to the biting smell of smoke in the air and the sharp shouts of the fire crews. “There is nothing in there I can’t replace. But I can’t replace you or Henry. And we’re all safe, thanks to you and your friends.” Regina’s heart warmed as she corrected herself. “Our friends.”

“But—”

“No. No ‘buts’. This is over. We won.” Regina pulled away from the tight embrace and took her lover’s hands. “We’re safe. We won. Please tell me you understand that.”

Emma squinted and dipped her head, eyes suddenly sensitive from the smoke, the tears and the bright emergency lights. “Yeah, OK.”

“I love you so much.” Regina closed the distance between them, cupping Emma’s face and gently placing a kiss on her lips.

“I love you, too.” Green eyes blazed, focused and intense. “Always.”

“Wha—” Regina’s query at the odd phrasing was cut off from 20 feet away.

“Emma!”

They turned at the same time as they spotted Pete waving them over until they rejoined the group.

“We can’t…” he began, pointing at the house, but stalled at the news.

Regina nodded. “You did your best.”

“It’s too far gone, I’m so sorry. It’s all containment now, we’ve got it under control, but I thought, you know…”

Tanner chimed in: “How’d this spread so fast? It couldn’t have been burning for more than a couple of minutes before we spotted it.”

All heads turned toward the fiery, fading structure as Pete explained his early theory on origin and accelerant. Soon Marty, Robert and Tanner joined in, mentioning other scenes they had witnessed first person, leaving Regina feeling almost out of body, fascinated at this in-person lecture on arson while her childhood home incinerated before her eyes.

“Hey, Swanny, remember that grow joint in Rozzie that went up?” Tanner tittered at the memory. “We were all halfway stoned about 5 minutes after we got on scene.” The man turned to find his friend when the question went unanswered. “Swanny?”

Six confused heads looked right and left, back and front as the party in question was nowhere to be found. The officers locked eyes, realization descending on them all at once. “Shit!” Robert growled. “Goddamn her! Marty, Tanner, grab your gear!”

“What?” Regina looked on in hopeless confusion, sprinting after the men, who had begun running to Robert’s truck. But just as soon as she uttered the syllable, the answer was frighteningly clear. “Oh, God, no.”

The truck tore away from the curb with a squeal just as Bell’s Honda pulled up across the street, Kathryn and the officer spilling out of the car and running up to Regina. Emma’s past instructions to Bell were clear while keeping her out of the dangerous know: If you happened to hear Mifflin on the scanner, no matter the hour, get Kathryn and bring her to the house. _That,_ Bell mused, _had been interesting._

“Are you alright?” Kathryn cried, grabbing Regina in a fierce hug, eyes transfixed by the burning building. “Where’s Emma?”

O’Boy looked ashen as he shook his head. “She went after the Pines.”

****

As Robert pulled up to the mouth of the Pines’ long, dirt driveway, he saw Regina’s Mercedes parked in haste. Worry burning in his stomach, he knew he should have caught it, realized what was going on. Emma was one of those people who, the quieter they got, the more dangerous they became. Sure, she raged when she was upset. But when she was nuclear mad and incredibly dangerous, she got silent and still. And then all hell broke loose.

“Tactically, this is a cluterfuck,” Marty noted, shouldering his rifle. The layout was just as Emma had explained: half-mile driveway that lead to their house in the woods. The woods were thick on either side, making silent approach near impossible, even by foot. Or potentially lethal, given the family’s woodsman ways: Emma shared the popular theory that the family had booby trapped the woodland leading up to the home. No one was interested in testing the validity of the rumor.

“So…” Tanner broke the silence.

Robert exhaled slowly. “You and I go up there and try to get her back. Some, ‘we just want our friend, this is just a big misunderstanding’ bullshit.”

“You think they’ll actually go for that?” he laughed.

“What choice do we have? Leave her there till the staties arrive? She needs help now. They’re not up there having Bible study or whatever. Marty, hang back. We may need you if we get fucked.”

“You want me in the woods?”

“Last resort, man. You know what she said.”

“I know, booby traps. For god’s sake, you think Nam was paved like the Yellow Brick Road?”

“Just be careful, alright? I don’t want Shelia to kick my ass.”

“She totally would,” Tanner noted.

“Alright,” he exhaled, chest tight. “Let’s go.”

****

 _I could have played this better,_ Emma admitted to herself as she stood in the Pines’ front yard with her hands in the air, 15 feet away from the business end of a pistol gripped tightly by Hiram Pines’ bony fingers. Ben and Zeke flanked their father, grinning sickly, both still wearing the black pants, caps and hoodies they sported while torching Regina’s house.

After slipping away from her friends and quietly driving away, she was nearly blind with rage, which didn’t abate until she heard rifles cocking just before she reached the end of the driveway. She turned toward the noise to see the boys, each in a tree stand on either side of the woods, barrels aimed at her head. On the way over, it had seemed simple. Go to the Pines. Find a hiding spot. Be there when State Police rolled up and be a part of the team to take them down, put a bullet in them all, or both.

“Keep walkin’ girl,” one of them ordered from above. Emma did just that. Dawn was breaking, the silhouette of Hiram Pine sharpening as he stepped closer into the lightening sky. Ben and Zeke jogged out of nowhere to meet him, Emma shocked at how quickly and silently they made their way from the woods.

Hiram seemed preoccupied with some point in the distance, as if his sons weren’t holding this chief of police at gunpoint on his front lawn. When he turned to face Emma he looked crazier than the last time they met, and that was saying something, she thought. Even though the sun was just rising, Pine was wearing a clean, pressed suit, shined shoes, white hair brushed perfectly in place. But his eyes, the electric blue she found so piercing, were wild, pupils blown. _He looks high_ , she thought, surprised as nothing she had ever heard or read about him indicated he was a user.

“You seem to be at a disadvantage,” he noted cooly, raising the pistol.

“I need you all to come with me,” Emma tried. She almost wished Robert was there to laugh at her for the attempt.

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, dear, and neither are you. Our time is at hand, Miss Swan.”

Her stomach lurched in an instant as she realized his end game: mutually assured destruction. Hiram Pine didn’t intend to make it out alive and he wanted to take Emma Swan with him.

“What do you mean?”

“Judgment Day.”

“I thought God made that call.”

“You know neither the day nor the hour, but I do. I am one of the Lord’s chosen and he has foretold today as the day — our day.”

Emma shifted her feet.

“Come no closer!”

“So if this is our day, why am I still breathing?”

“You must be redeemed. My boys are here to help you with that. Then you will be fit for the Lord’s judgment. Granted, it is outside the bonds of holy matrimony, but you will have at least lain with a man…or men.”

Emma did her best to remain nonplussed at the prospect and its twisted logic. Stall. “What about them? Are they coming with us?”

“No, they will inherit my property, my ministry.” _They will be in fucking jail, man, but whatever._

As the men advanced, she instinctively shifted into a defensive stance. “Don’t touch me,” she warned. As Ben tried to grab an arm, Emma twisted and drove an elbow into his nose, the force so hard it reverberated up her limb. He recoiled in pain. “BITCH!” he roared, pudgy face screwed up in rage, blood starting to pool in his hands, eyes watering from the pain.

“Martha!” At Hiram’s call a girl in her mid-teens walked out of the house, fully dressed in a floor-length, plain grey dress. Unmoved by the scene in front of her like it was an everyday occurrence, she walked to his side.

As Ben wobbled, groaned and launched a series of graphic threats at Emma, Zeke advanced with a dirty grin, deftly dodging a side kick and grabbing her leg. He twisted her to the ground with a thud and pinned her, sitting on her midsection. She could feel his erection, hard against her abs and pretended to give up while he leaned over, beard scratching her cheek.

“I like it when they fight,” he rasped, coffee breath invading her senses as he rubbed himself against her stomach. _Fucking hick._ She let him grind for a few seconds to lull him into a false sense of security, hooking her heels behind his thighs and lifting her hips.

“That’s a good girl. Just like that!” he encouraged. Emma turned her head to find Hiram, Ben and the girl all watching intently as Zeke raised on one forearm, freeing his hand to unzip his pants. Emma nearly smiled. _Perfect._

Lifting her hips, she violently twisted to the right, tumbling the man off, quickly following with a series of blows and kicks to his exposed midsection.

“Fucking cunt!” The pair were busy flailing at each other, Emma trying to reach the knife hidden in her boot, when a gunshot immediately stopped the scuffle, both parties suddenly staring at the child on the ground, a neat bullet hole in her forehead.

“NO!” Emma screamed as she rose to her feet.

“Continue to struggle, I have more daughters. Rebecca!” Out walked another girl, same dress, this one looked younger.

“Alright,” she panted, holding up a hand in surrender. “Alright.” Trying to catch her breath and calm her hammering heart, she smelled Zeke approaching and turned just in time to take an open-handed slap to the face. “Obey me, bitch.” He grabbed her hand and placed it on the outside of his jeans, still hard, rubbing her hand over his erection.

 _Where is Slater?_ “On the ground.”

“We’re doing this here? I don’t even get a bed?”

“There is no more beautiful place for relations than under God’s glory,” Hiram informed.

“And she’s gonna…?” She eyed the young girl, who looked back dead eyed.

“She needs to understand her womanly duty.”

As Emma lowered herself to the ground as slowly as possible, Robert, Tanner and Marty watched crouched in the woods bordering the yard. Once they heard the gunshot, they moved as quickly as they could as close as they could, any noise masked or attention drawn by Emma pounding on her assailant and the shooting.

Robert pointed at Marty and then, making a circle with his hand, placed it over his eye. Marty nodded at the SWAT hand signal: sniper. He flattened himself to the ground, silently unhinged the rifle’s bipod at the front for balance and began calibrating its sight as quickly as possible. Robert pointed at himself, then Tanner, then made the Come With hand signal.

And just in time, given Emma’s suitor was getting ready to take her pants off.

“Get off her!” Robert bellowed, walking out of the woods, gun extended, drawing Hiram’s attention so Marty could take the shot…which never came. _Well, shit._

“Who are you?”

“We’ve come for her. This is all a big misunderstanding. Let her go, we’ll leave and pretend this never happened.”

Blocked from Robert’s view by Zeke still sitting on her hips, she swallowed a laugh. _If that works I_ will _fuck this guy._

Sweating on the ground, Marty felt dread spread throughout his chest as he remembered the bullets…in his pocket. _Dammit._

“I don’t think so. The Lord has plans for Miss Swan today and I must see them through.”

Robert tried to stall for time, wondering what was taking Marty so long. It was the standard plan: distract the subject so the sniper can take the shot. _But where is the shot?_

“Robert, go.” Emma’s voice rang out loud and firm. She sat up off the ground and pushed Zeke off. “Get off me, will you? Jesus. You can rape me in, like, 2 minutes.”

She stood slowly, amazed the man listened to her, and looked at Robert. “It’s my time,” she said quietly, “you heard him. I have to go.” She eyed Tanner, then did the math in her head. _Where’s Marty?_ She knew there was no way Robert would do this without him. Then it hit her: the woods. _Of course._

Robert’s eyes narrowed, wondering if Emma was this good of an actress or had finally snapped. She was so authentic, his reaction was instant and genuine. “No! We’re not leaving here without you!”

“Robert, don’t—”

“Emma, no!” Tanner finally found his voice and, God help him, he looked like he was about to cry. “Cut the shit and come with us.”

Flat on the ground Marty retracted the rifle’s bolt handle as quietly as he could while he watched Emma do exactly what he needed, cause a distraction. _Atta girl!_ Her friends and the Pines were so engrossed in the argument, no one seemed to notice her inching closer to Hiram, not even the man himself. Agonizingly slow and praying he didn’t snap a twig or rustle a leaf, Marty rolled onto one hip, a move that allowed him to carefully reach into the breast pocket of his vest for a .308 shell.

“I’m not letting you stay here!” Robert’s voice grew stern. “Absolutely not. Regina will kill me.”

“It’s not about Regina!” she spit back, and that’s when Robert knew she was faking it. To Emma, _everything_ was about Regina. “It’s my choice. I’m seeing this through.”

She turned to Hiram, now just one arm’s length away. _So close. One more step._ “If you let them go, unharmed, I won’t put up a fight.”

Eyes wide, voice sincere, she sold it as well as she could, picturing Regina and Henry in her head. Lazy Sundays laying in bed. Cuddling on the couch. Family vacations. Christmases, birthdays, messy breakfasts and every single ordinary, beautiful, gorgeous day with the two people she loved more than anyone in the world. It was all within reach, everything she ever wanted, all she had to do was take one more step and she would finally win. The girl without a home, the woman without a family, the professional who had everything she wanted except the thing she never knew she would live for, would finally get her happy ending. _So close. So close. Soclosesoclosesoclose._ Engrossed in the moment and the stakes at hand, moisture crowded her eyes, her throat constricting tightly.

“I agree,” Hiram nodded, watching tears crawl down her face. _She has finally repented._

Emma sniffled and bowed her head in defeat as she took that last step, voice choking on her order: “Robert, Tanner, go.” The defeated tone belied the speed of her hand as she smacked the gun out of Pines’ loose grip, watching it land a few feet away. She was so focused on the gun, Emma never expected the lethal buck knife she soon found lodged in her abdomen. Pines thrust into her stomach with his left hand, the long blade disappearing deep, his right holding her upright around the neck as she screamed in agony.

While the Pine boys looked lost, Robert and Tanner began to charge until the patriarch spoke: “One step closer and I will cut any of the arteries I can find.” He twisted the knife and opened the wound a few inches larger, punctuating his threat as Emma screamed in anguish . “I know there are many in here. Do you know how—”

The sentence was left unfinished as a shot rang out, the bullet flying true, lodging itself in Hiram Pines’ forehead, a surprised look on his face as fell backwards, Emma quickly behind.

“Father!” Ben wailed, sprinting for the body with his brother.

“Marty! Get a bus!” Surprisingly fast, the elder man was out of the bushes, already dialing as Robert dove for Emma, whipping off his vest in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood from the wound. Thick and stiff, the vest wasn’t doing much good. Off came his shirt, leaving him in a tank.

“You’re gonna be OK my White Chocolate Princess,” Robert promised tensely, heart in his throat, panting. He surveyed the wound: the knife still lodged in the left side of her abdomen, just under her breast; but Pine had widened the incision when he twisted, causing blood to pump out of the wound steadily.

“Hands behind your back! On your knees!” Tanner barked, pointing his gun at the pair off to that right. He quickly secured them, both men surrendering without a fight as he pushed them to the ground.

“Emma! Emma, right here, baby.” The blonde moved her head in what Robert guessed was the best nod she could do at the moment. “You’re gonna be OK, you hear? Her eyes were wide and frightened, breaths shallow. The air was thick with the scent of copper mixed with the damp dew of a spring morning. _My God, the birds, they’re so loud,_ she thought as her teeth began to chatter.

“Emma!” Robert patted her cheek gently and smiled tightly, a stark contrast to the horror gripping his heart. “Stay focused on me.” He leaned in and whispered near her ear: “You need to stay awake so you can give Marty shit for taking a fucking century to take that shot.”

“Hurts,” she wheezed.

“I bet.” He tried to will himself to look as calm and casual as he possibly could for a person who hands were now soaked in his best friend’s blood. “Bus’s gonna be here in a few seconds and you’re gonna be fine.”

Emma’s teeth began to chatter uncontrollably as she struggled to speak.

“Ssshhh, no no no. Don’t talk, baby. You can thank me later.” Both hands on the wound, Robert quickly turned over his shoulder. “Marty! What did they say?”

“On their way!”

“Call Slater and find out where the fuck SP is!”

Turning back, Robert’s stomach plummeted as he found Emma, lying still, impossibly pale, eyes closed.

“EMMA!” Tamping down panic with as much strength as he could muster, he spotted her chest still moving, but far too fast for his liking.

“No! Nononononono!” his voice climbed higher, faster and more desperate with every word. “Emma, dammit! C’mon, baby, please. For me?”

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. _Jesus, please, no._

“MARTY, WHERE THE FUCK IS THE BUS?”

**TBC**


	23. Chapter 23

Even for an ER, it was chaotic.

The gurney carrying Storybrooke Chief of Police Emma Swan burst through the doors like an explosion, voices shouting instructions, questions and commands. A phalanx of doctors and nurses ran to meet it like particles pulled into a meteor tail, everyone attaching themselves to the running crowd, sprinting straight to the closest triage room, leaving a large man in a bloody tank top alone in its wake.

Robert looked around dumbly, unsure of what to do or where to go. It was suddenly quite quiet, everyday conversations, keyboards tapping and the soft drone of the nearby waiting lounge TV filling the air. The coppery smell of blood still filled his nostrils, but was now mixed with the telltale antiseptic aroma of a hospital.

A kind-faced woman in scrubs tapped him on the shoulder. “C’mon,” she offered softly. “Let’s get you changed.”

He stepped out of the men’s room in a pair of light blue scrubs, bloody clothes gathered in a bag in case State Police needed them for evidence, procedural instinct still strong despite the trauma of the day. Folding his frame into a plastic chair in an empty corner of the waiting room, Robert propped his elbows on his knees, head in his hands, his phone to one ear and dialed.

“Mama,” he began, but upon hearing her voice quickly lost whatever tenuous hold he had on himself, emotions finally bursting through as he sobbed into his hands.

Ten minutes later, head still bowed, Robert was sniffling and wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands when he heard footfalls approaching.

“Gotta go, I’ll call you back,” he ended, lifting his eyes to a severe-looking nurse. “Are you with the Chief?”

“Yes.”

“She’s headed into surgery.”

“So she’s—”

“—in surgery. Are you her health-care proxy?”

Robert, paused, unsure of the right answer. “The proxy is on the way,” he lied.

“Then we’ll fill him in when he gets here. I’ll be at the nurses station.”

“She — the proxy’s a she,” he supplied, unsure why he felt the need.

The nurse stopped, turned, nodded tersely, and set off again, not quite comforting but not quite rude, just about right for every ER head nurse he’d ever met.

Picking up the phone once more he made the call he’d be dreading.

“What’s going on? Where are you?” No “Hello” or “Where are you?” Kathryn’s questions were frantic and desperate, the naked emotion washing over him like a powerful wave thundering onto the shore.

He opened his mouth to speak but choked on the words, throat sore from the yelling and crying. “ER.” A breath shuddered out roughly. “Emma…she’s….she’s in surgery. You both should be here.”

“How is she?”

“I don’t know, they won’t tell me. I assume Regina’s her proxy.”

“God, I have no idea.”

“Just get here,” he stated, half an order, half a request. “I…need you guys.”

Fifteen minutes later, the women tore into ER waiting room to find Robert curled in on himself, head on bent knees, arms cradling his head like he couldn’t bear to lift it.

“Robert?”

From the moment Kathryn mentioned the hospital, Regina was filled with searing pain, chest tight and burning, as if she were holding a breath and could not exhale. The moment she saw Robert in a crumbled heap, her own anxiety was quickly shuffled to the side, her only thought and need to comfort him.

“Hey…” Robert felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see the two women. Kathryn looked pale, worn and worried, but Regina’s eyes, though tired, were full of love, a fact that made him tear up again.

“Sssshhh.” Regina gently hugged the man into her waist, his long arms wrapped around her torso. “It’s going to be fine. She’ll be OK, she has to be. You and I have so much yelling to do at her. You think she’s going to get out of that?” _I sound like Emma_ , she thought with a small smile.

Kathryn looked on, feeling like an intruder. She didn’t know Robert well, but instinctively knew he was a proud man who probably didn’t want a potential girlfriend to see him in such a vulnerable state, at least not yet. She tapped Regina on the shoulder and mimed drinking with her hand: _I’m going to the caf_. The brunette nodded gratefully.

But before she left, she gently pushed Regina away from Robert and stepped into her place. Tenderly placing her hands on each side of his head, she leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Once Kathryn walked away, Regina moved right back in, cradling him once more. She swayed gently, rubbing her friend’s shoulders and whispering hushed assurances until she felt him pull away. “I can’t…” he began, holding up his hands. “I tried and…I can’t get her blood off my hands.”

A chill ripped through Regina’s body as she spied the dried blood caked into his cuticles. She tamped down any sadness, her tone light and motherly, as if he simply fell off a swing and needed a Band Aid.

“Let’s take care of that,” she gently ordered, holding him by the hand and guiding him to the ladies room. With soap, warm water and a paper towel, she softly scrubbed his nail beds, pink water sluicing down the drain.

“So this is the ladies room,” he deadpanned, breaking the silence. “I always thought there was a wet bar in here with y’all going in groups.” There was little inflection or emotion, but the essence was right. _There you are_ , Regina thought.

“I wish you weren’t gayer than a unicorn humping a rainbow, we woulda made a great pair. Wait, Swan is pretty manly, maybe you do like guys.” A little more emotion and teasing in that one, Robert’s spirit began to rebound slowly like a frozen limb warming from the cold.

“Oh, she’s all woman, believe me.”

“I don’t want to think about her all-womanness.”

“You started it,” she noted with a soft chuckle. “Plus, I hear there’s someone who you might make a great pair with.”

Brown eyes shone a little brighter. “There is.”

Regina examined his hands once more and deeming them clean, patted them dry with a paper towel: “There. All better.”

Looking down at his hands and then at his friend’s warm face, Robert gathered her in his arms and kissed the top of her head, which reeked of smoke.

“Love you, Mightyfine.”

“And I love you.”

“C’mon,” he began, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go find Kat.”

They exited the ladies room to find Kathryn holding a tray of coffee and Pastor Pat approaching with soft eyes. “Regina…” he began, but stopped, watching in horror as she immediately passed out into Robert’s arms.

****

“Regina?”

The question hung muted and low, far away and fuzzy.

“Regina? C’mon, honey, open your eyes.” The brunette tried to follow the voice, willing it louder and more clear, fighting to lift heavy lids and the thick fog that swirled in time with the loud whoosh of her pulse in her ears. She felt a soothing sensation on her calf, a rhythmic stroking that made her want to stay asleep, not wake up.

“Let’s go, girl. Emma’s the lazy one. We need you full-tilt.”

 _Robert_. Lids fluttering, she squinted as bright fluorescent lights nearly blinded her.

A voice she couldn’t place sounded out: “I’ll go get the P.A.”, followed by footsteps fading into the distance.

Blinking a few times, then finally focusing, she found Kathryn and Robert side by side on the right of her… _hospital bed_?

“You passed out.”

Panic flooded Regina’s body as she tried to sit up. “Is she—”

“She’s still in surgery,” Robert answered. “Don’t get up, try to relax. The padre there was just coming over to see if you needed anything.”

Mortified, her lips parted. _Poor Pat was coming to help and I fainted at the sight of him_.

“Don’t be embarrassed, he understood,” Kathryn soothed.

“I’ve never fainted before in my life.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything. This time last year, you didn’t date chicks and now you’re super gay.” Robert chuckled as Kathryn lightly swatted him on the arm. “ _Hey_ , it’s true.”

The blonde smirked and shook her head. “Here, have some water. They’re going to want to check your blood pressure before they let you out of this bed.” Regina took a long, grateful sip off the Styrofoam cup.

“You need to be 100%,” Robert informed her, “Mama and Henry are coming back tomorrow.”

“What?”

“She wants to be up here, I had to talk her out of coming today. She’s gonna go berserk waiting for tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll be cooking all day to keep herself busy and come up with that car loaded with food and Tiny Boss.”

“But Henry—”

“—needs his mommas. And you need him. And so will ya damn woman once she wakes up.”

“But where—”

“Relax, we’ll get a hotel.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know, relax. Let’s, like, wait until the genius gets out of surgery and see what’s up. I gotta hook up with Marty and the guys, see if we can salvage any of our stuff, and the statie already texted me that they’re coming to take my statement later.”

“Where?” Kathryn asked.

“Probably here. I’m not leaving until she’s out of surgery.”

Regina’s eyes widened at the realization of the one obvious question she should have asked the minute she walked through the ER doors.

“Robert,” she began urgently, “ _what on earth happened?_ ”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he pulled over a chair, motioning for Kathryn to sit. He sat on the end of the bed, one long leg still on the floor. Although used to running on little sleep and lots of action, Robert was tired. The adrenaline had long ago burnt off, replaced by exhausting emotion. Exhaling slowly, he began, “So, we get to the Pines’ driveway and find your car…”

The trio passed the time in hours, uncomfortable chairs, and shitty coffee, refusing to budge until they ensured that Emma was alive. Robert knew he would never forget the desperate look on Regina’s face as she listened to the surgeon explain Emma’s wounds, surgery and prognosis just outside her hospital room.

“Now, all of you, please go home and get some sleep,” he urged gently.

Robert gently stretched his neck in slow circle to work out the kinks. “We look that bad, huh?”

“First-year resident,” he threw over his shoulder as he walked away. “Get out of here.”

“That’s just me, girls,” Robert yawned, slinging an arm over Regina’s shoulder. “You two are as fine as ever.” He looked, around, suddenly confused. “Where’s Kat?”

Regina pointed into Emma’s darkened room, where she could just make out Kathryn’s tall frame standing next to the bed. “I can’t tell if she’s crying or if she’s going to suffocate her.”

“Even money, I’d say,” he snorted. “I’m going to toss some water on my face so I can drive us all home without running off the road. I feel like a hot bucket of fuck.”

Regina smirked as Robert walked away, leaning into the doorframe, wondering what her best friend was up to.

“I fucking told you, you idiot,” Kathryn hissed, tears threatening to spill out of tired eyes. She had been the rock all day, for the fiancée, for the best friend. She had no reason to cry, really. They were colleagues, they were just teasing friends. “Regina has been through this once, don’t be a selfish asshole and make her go through it again. I…I don’t know if I can put her back together if…” She shuddered, breaths catching in her throat as she ran a hand through her hair. “I fucking knew it, the moment I saw you two at Ruby’s cookout, you were both so gone, god.”

The oxygen machine wheezed, helping Emma’s lungs do their job in light of the trauma.

“Regina needs you. Robert needs you.” She nearly choked, a name she hadn’t considered popping into her brain with painful accuracy. “Henry,” she gulped, a golf-ball-sized lump in her throat. “Henry needs you.” It hurt to even voice his name. “This shit always works on TV, so do it for them, alright?”

***

  
With the lights at half-power, the TV suspended from the ceiling the glowed brightly. Regina had turned the volume low with the remote tethered to the bed, but the sounds of the Red Sox game broke through here and there, with exclamations from the announcers following big plays. _Emma likes baseball_ , she supplied to herself.

She sat in the thinly cushioned chair to the right of the bed, going through the motions of reading the monthly reports from the various department heads but retaining very little. Every few minutes, her eyes would automatically shift to Emma, lying peacefully inclined in the bed. Were she not hooked up to a large, slow-draining IV bag, it could have been Emma sleeping in their bed at home, save for the fact that she rarely slept on her back nor kept her hands to herself. Every so often, Regina found herself picking up Emma’s right hand, stroking it from palm from fingertips, gaze landing on the wrist, where a plastic ID band proclaimed: SWAN, EMMA F DOB 07/29/78 O POS

Sometimes she would place a kiss in the center of Emma’s hand, other times she would hold Emma’s palm to her cheek or thread their fingers together as if they were holding hands. Regardless of action, the plea was always the same, always whispered: “Come back to me.”

While the private room was quiet, just outside the cracked door the hallway bustled with motion — voices, staff, rolling equipment, beeps, and the bright, stark lights of the post-op floor, where night never fell. Regina heard steps approaching and wondered who it was: The doctor had already finished rounds and the nurses had checked her vitals 15 minutes earlier. She glanced at the clock: 9:15 p.m. Too early for Robert to show up and all but forcibly drag her back to Emma's apartment. "Don’t make me sling you over my shoulder and haul you out," he warned the first night. "I'll do it, you know I will." It had only been three days, but Regina and her makeshift family had fallen into a daily routine, which ended with Robert bringing the brunette home at 10 p.m. "If I don't, you'd never leave. You need your sleep and that tiny taskmaster needs to see you in the morning." _Henry_. She smiled to herself at just the echo of his name in her heart and their reunion, during which she could not stop crying, and he could not quite understand why. "I just missed you so much!" she smiled through the tears, only to start again at his very next statement: "Where's Mom?"

"Regina?" Head turning to the door, she was pulled out of her reverie by the kind voice of an unexpected visitor.

"Archie," she breathed, "Hi."

The doctor walked in and placed a coffee tray on the rolling overbed table near Emma's unconscious form, then took Regina's hands in her own. "I hope I'm not intruding, but I wanted to see how you're doing. I know it's late, but I thought you might like a latte. It's decaf," he promised, extending the cup.

Regina's chest squeezed at the gesture. "I haven't had decent coffee in days, thank you. Sit."

Pulling up a seat, the pair sat. "How is she?"

"Stubbornly unconscious," Regina chuckled ruefully. "She can't kick this infection that developed, either from the…stabbing," it hurt to even voice it, "the surgery or the recovery. In addition to all the other damage they had to repair, they had to remove her spleen, which isn't helping her infection-fighting."

"Have they upped the antibiotics?"

"Twice."

"Has she woken up at all?"

Regina pursed lips, "No. And I want to be here when she does." _When, not if, when._

"Of course. I don't want to impose, but if you want to talk, if it helps, I'm here. Now or any time."

Regina nodded as she stalled for time, taking a sip from the tall paper cup.

"Or I can just sit here and we can watch the game. What's the score?"

Regina chuckled. "No idea."

"Would you like me to leave?" The question was quiet and matter of fact, no offense or hurt implied.

"No, I…" She exhaled almost painfully. "My…ride…" she smirked at the term, "is coming to bring me home at ten o'clock."

"Oh, I'm your ride tonight, if you want," he smiled. "I spoke to…Robert, right?"

Regina nodded dumbly. "How do you—"

"I visited Laura today trying to find your contact information and she told me to talk to Robert. He seems like a fun guy."

"That may be an understatement."

"I couldn’t get out to visit before now but he said this may be a good time and I could drive you to the Chief’s apartment after."

"Do I have a curfew?" she teased.

"If you're not home by 11 I'm in trouble," he laughed. "Want me to stay?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to talk?"

"I don't know."

"Fair enough. Can I ask you a question?" He reached into a bag Regina didn't realize he had, brought out a scone, broke it in two and handed her half.

"OK."

"How did you two meet? Was it during work or outside of work?" Archie chewed the pastry enthusiastically as he waited for an answer.

"Officially at her interview." Regina smiled at the memory. Emma in her business suit, bun, total professional. "But we ran into each other the day before she started, at the playground by the harbor."

Regina bit off a piece of scone, her smile widening. "Henry was playing and this loud muscle car turned into the parking lot…"

The pair ate, sipped and talked, neither watching the baseball game nor noticing the slight movement of a right hand sporting a hospital ID bracelet.

***

Emma shifted, hearing sounds: low, muted noises, like she was underwater listening to a conversation above the surface. Gradually, it got clearer, louder, until…

“I got 19.”

“You can’t have 19! You can never have a score of 19.”

“Oh, please. Count this: 15-2, 15-4—”

Cracking an eye, she turned her head to the right and saw Bell and Robert playing cards.

“Shut up, you two, Jesus.” In her head the statement came out perfectly, but what she heard via her ears was more like a faint, voice-cracking, indecipherable whimper.

“Chief!” Bell’s head snapped up from the cards.

“Finally!” Robert tried to sound annoyed but failed spectacularly.

“Where’s Regina?” Emma’s throat was so dry, her voice low and hoarse, escaping in a croak.

“At work. She’s been splitting time between here and the office. We’re trying to keep her busy till your lazy ass woke up.”

Bell stood, instinctively knowing it was time to go. Walking over to Emma, she patted a leg tucked firmly under a thin hospital blanket.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” she noted softly, voice wavering a touch.

“Thanks, Shannon. Come back and visit later?”

“Sure. I gotta school that one, he’s the lousiest cribbage player I’ve ever seen.”

“Go arrest a runaway cow or something.” Robert winked at the petite blonde as she walked out the door.

“She was super worried about you.”

“Yeah?”

“I like her, she’s a tough little thing. Reminds me of a young, feisty you, I—”

“—Regina…how she is?” Emma immediately felt guilty for sidetracking into Bell, mind still warming up after the extended slumber, unable to keep up with all the thoughts in her head.

“About what you’d think. Barely sleeping, barely eating, despite me and Kathryn nagging her, which is impressive in and of itself.”

“The nagging or not listening to you?”

“Both. She’ll be here later, I’m sure. She usually checks in with me, I give her the ‘Your shiftless woman is still sleeping’ update , she has dinner with Tiny Boss, then comes over here.”

“Henry’s back?”

“And Mama.”

“Oh.” It took a few seconds for the implications of the statement to hack through her hazy brain. “He hasn’t—”

“No, she didn’t want him to see you like this. She just told him you’re working.”

“And Mama?”

“Busy cleaning your apartment and prepping to rip you a new one.”

Emma groaned, rubbing her face as if she could force the fog from her head and pull everything into tight focus.

“Yeah, prepare for that one.”

“Where are you guys staying?”

“Hotel. Kat offered her place, but it seemed too weird. We’re not even off jump street yet, I couldn’t have us all living together yet, ya know? Mightyfine and the man are at your place.”

Emma smirked at the thought of Mama P. and Kathryn meeting, not to mention cohabitating, even in the short term. It was the first light emotion she’d felt in what seemed like forever and even a tiny, uncontrollable giggle strained her abused stomach.

“Owww, shit,” she hissed.

“Easy. They just put you back together.” The pain dampened the amusement, Emma moving hands tentatively over her bandaging.

“What day is it?” she squinted.

“You, Sleeping Beauty, have been out for four days.”

“What the hell?”

“Oh, yeah,” he began, pulling his chair closer. “When you get stabbed, you get stabbed real good. Lemme call the doc, he can come in and check you out, and then I will fill your reckless, selfish self in.”

An impossibly young-looking doctor soon entered, smiling to see the hospital’s most famous patient conscious. “Let’s see what’s going on…”

She groggily fielded his questions, vision and consciousness becoming clearer with each answer. Robert sat unobtrusively, quietly, in the corner as the doctor explained how the stab wound nearly killed her, resulting in massive blood loss and an 8-hour surgery to repair damage to her left lung, part of her intestines and her now-missing spleen.

“Is that why I feel like I was run over by a truck?”

“Well, that and the infection you developed the day after the surgery. We had to up the antibiotics twice to get it under control. Keeping you unconscious was the easiest way to limit the stress on your organs and let your body begin to first defend and heal."

As she was gently checked out, fragments of the past days floated back, but it was hard to know what was real and what was a figment of her still-cloudy mind. She could remember bits and pieces, like watching a TV show half asleep on the couch. There was definitely the smell of Regina’s perfume and the feel of a hand holding hers and faint prayers. And, _nah, couldn't be…_

"Alright, Chief. We're going to do a workup and see if this infection is on the run. But you're up, so that is a good sign. Just rest up. If the results are good, we'll see if we can get that catheter out tonight, get you walking."

"Thank you." The doctor turned and left, Robert taking his place, folding himself into the popular bedside chair.

"Who was up here while I was out?"

"Me, Mightyfine, Mama, Bell." He bit his lip trying to put names with faces. "The young guy on days."

"Nolan."

"Yeah."

"The little crabby cop who does nights."

"Petit? Why'd you let him in?"

Robert shrugged. "Mightyfine wanted people here and she let Bell choose the cops. Oh, and your dispatcher, grandmotherly one."

"Martha was here?" _Jesus, I wasn't hearing things._

"Yeah, she was a piece of work. She's come in, sit down and first thing change the channel to that station that only plays that show she likes."

"NCIS. My god, I heard some of that."

"Not surprising, you watched, like, 3 hours a day," he laughed. "We made Mightyfine go to work after Henry went to school, try to keep her mind off your dumb ass. Then everyone'd come in for an hour or two, just to sit with you. She'd pop in during lunch and then come back after dinner. If we didn't ban her and promise people would be here, she never would have slept, eaten or left. I like that little midget guy you got. He’s a piece of work.”

“How bad was this?”

“Dunno now. Few days ago, shit…” He stopped on a dime, voice shifting from casual annoyance to, literally, life and death. “You scared the fuck out of me, Emma, I’m not going to lie or joke it off.” He scooted the hospital chair closed and rested his large hand on her thigh. “Don’t ever, ever do that again.”

“I—”

“Lemme finish. I was covered in your blood not that long ago, you owe me that much.”

Eyes wide, she nodded solemnly.

“I know you’re used to being alone and thinking you’re alone, but it’s not true. It wasn’t true back home and it certainly isn’t here. I always told you that, Mightyfine said she’s told you that.” Emma’s eyes grew even larger. “Oh, yeah, we’ve been talking. I don’t know if it’s some self-defense mechanism or whatever, but you belong. In my family and, now, in your own. Stop acting like no one cares about you or love you. It’s not about you anymore. Put them first.”

She let the words sink in. The reality of them was harsh, only because it outlined what an incredibly stupid gamble she had taken.

“So what—”

Emma’s question was cut off the second she glanced at her friend, whose eyes were suddenly shiny.

“No. No, no, no,” she begged quietly. Robert was her rock and rocks don’t cry. Plus the relief and sorrow on his face scared her, highlighting how close she had come to losing everything with her decision. “C’mon, man. St—”

“No, yourself. I…I’ve…” He shook his head. “I get to do this. It’s what happens when you’re worried about people you love and you have to accept it.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I know this is weird, but, tough shit. It’s your fault anyway. Don’t do anything stupid like this again and you’ll never have to see it.”

It was awkward and uncomfortable to watch her best friend break down, but Emma silently watched, rubbing one side of his shoulder until he composed himself.

“You OK?”

“Yeah.” He wiped his eyes with his sweatshirt sleeve and leveled her with a gaze. “You wanna hear how it ended?”

Emma nodded and exhaled, suddenly nervous. “Yeah.”

“Wait.” He stood and left the room, returning a few minutes later with two cups of crushed ice, straws and two cans of ginger ale. “My throat’s killing me, yours must be dust,” he noted, handing Emma’s over.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Nurse’s station. They love me, let me use their secret stash of soda, unlimited ice machine privileges. I’m a most favored nation.”

“Kathryn been here?” Emma took a long sip, the cool, sugary liquid instantly perking her up. _Yes._

“Off and on.”

“And what does she thinks of your, wait, what floor are we on?”

“Four.”

“What does she think of your Fourth Floor Idol status?”

“She has a jealous streak.”

“Already?”

Robert smirked and nodded. “Not so much in ‘Don’t you be lookin’ at my man!’” he illustrated, complete with waving, threatening finger. “But she’s been throwing side eye here and there.”

Emma chuckled, forgetting how much it would hurt. “Ow, shit…that’s cool, though.”

“We went on our date.”

“No, way!”

“Mightyfine made us, said we were making her nervous with all the hanging around,” he laughed. “I think she just wanted us to go out.”

“And?”

“And it was really good, despite the constant worry about my near-death best friend.”

“I’m going to be paying for this for pretty much ever, huh?”

“Yes.”

“So, are you, like, boyfriend-girlfriend?” she smirked. She took a pull on the straw to find she’d already finished her drink.

“Shut up. But you’ll be seeing me more often, put it that way.”

Emma snorted. “Oh, goodie. Wait, why are talking about your love life? Fill me in on what happened.”

“Oh, yeah.” He reached into a bag near his chair, pulled out a manila folder and tossed it on her overbed table. “That’s the preliminary report. Figure you’d want to read it. But I’ll fill in the gaps. So, after you got yourself stabbed like an asshole…”

For the next 45 minutes, he ran through the findings of the past four days. How Hiram was dead and found to be riddled with syphilis, so much so it was eating into his brain, turning him into the maniac Emma knew all too well.

“That’s why he looked and acted so crazy, or, one of several reasons. That’s some old-school, gangsta pimp shit. I’m almost impressed,” Robert snickered. “Good thing that hillbilly kid didn’t stick it in ya, he had it, too, but not as bad as the old man.”

Now the sons were currently residing in the county lockup, “but not before helping the feds pull off that meth sting deal.”

“When was that?”

“Following night.”

“How’d they do it?”

“The feds stormed in and demanded everyone at the PD keep what went down at the Pines under wraps. Since it was so far in the woods, no one witnessed it and it was just our guys, your guys and the staties. For a couple of days, the official word was you were injured in the fire. But now it’s all out in the open. SP had the boys run the Pine end two nights ago, feds swooped in and busted it up quite nicely, no injuries. Lots of arrests.”

“Regina’s house?”

“Structurally, a loss. Insurance’s been in there trying to salvage what they could, Mightyfine’s been working with them.”

“Where have they been staying?”

“Your place. Really nice setup you got there,” he tittered.

Emma was about to shoot back a colorful and very profane reply when a nurse walked in.

“Hey, Diane, look who’s up.”

“Chief, nice to see you. I need to take your vitals.”

Emma held out her left arm while Robert stood. “I’m gonna go get some more ginger ale.”

“You know where it is,” the redhead replied with a smile, eyes focused on the blood pressure machine.

Emma couldn’t stop her eye roll. _Oh, for fuck’s sake._

Vitals logged, soda obtained, Robert returned to find Emma leafing through the report.

“Anyone cop to Ezra and his girlfriend?”

“The boys said it was the father, but no evidence to back that up yet. SP’s still going through that place. What a shit show.”

“Daniel, what about—”

“Same. They said it was the old man. The former chief said it was the kid, Zeke. Both said he got whacked because he accidentally stumbled across their meth lab. Right now they’re still sifting through evidence, trying to see what sticks.”

“Edgar?”

“Oh, yeah, SP picked him up yesterday for questioning, then arrested his ass. Turn out old Hiram was a good record-keeper, whole notebooks full of payoffs to that guy, dates, reasons, a few photos. There was also, like, hundreds of audio tapes, the nut taped every conversation, apparently. SP will have to go through ’em, there may be something that clears up the picture on Gendreau’s murder. But Burroughs? They got him for falsifying evidence, bribery, tampering with a crime scene. I’m sure they could find perjury in there. And, if they get lucky, an accessory charge for the Gendreau case. He’s fucked.”

“Good.”

Emma yawned in spite of the sugary soda and conversation.

“Alright, I’m outta here.” He stood and stretched his long limbs. “I’ll explain more tomorrow. You rest. But I will say everyone’s fine, no one’s in trouble and Marty didn’t have to do any ‘friggin’ paperwork,’ so he’s happy.”

“Oh, shit, the guys. Are they OK?”

“Yeah, they left the next day, had to get back. Oh, wait, got a message from Cap.” He grabbed his phone and with a few swipes found what he was looking for. “‘He said, ‘Tell Swan when she wakes up — and she _will_ wake up — that only a dumb ass like her would get on the bad side of the one syphilitic madman in 21st century Maine.”

“There’s probably more than one,” she rasped. “It’s Maine.”

“He also says you owe him a ‘motherfucking boatload of lobster.’”

“That I can do…eventually.”

“Alright, I’m gone. Stay out of trouble, got it?”

Emma locked eyes with her best friend, more sincere than she had ever looked.

“I promise.”

“You better. ’Night, dummy. See you tomorrow.” _Tomorrow_. Robert smiled to himself as he walked of the room. _Alright_.

Just a few minutes after Robert left, Emma was busy reading the preliminary report when she heard footsteps approach and stop several feet away.

“I said get outta here. Go have some dinner, make out with Kathryn, whatever.” Closing her eyes, she laid her head back against the inclined bed., waiting to hear feet walking away. “ _Go,_ I told you.”

“I’m never leaving you.”

Emma jerked up at the quiet, firm tone, chest tightening at the recognition. In appearance Regina looked perfect — makeup, clothes, body language — but her eyes were so, so tired. A soft, strangled, “Oh…” escaped dry lips and Emma Swan promptly collapsed into tears.

Regina rushed over and sitting on the edge of the bed, grabbed her fiancée in a firm yet gentle embrace. “Sssshhhh,” she soothed, rocking her gently in the tiniest of movements. “You’re OK.”

“No, I’m not. I…” She sniffed trying to get her breathing under control, taking the time to bask in the beatific smile on her fiancée’s gorgeous face. “I messed—”

“No! Stop right there!” Regina’s tone turned firm and she softly held Emma’s face in her hands. “You listen to me. That guilt is what got you in this bed in the first place. You will stop feeling guilty about matters outside your control. You have to stop feeling guilty and you have to stop feeling alone.”

“I know, it’s just…how I’ve operated forever and it will take a while to break that habit, you know. I’ll make mistakes.”

Regina’s narrowed her eyes, suddenly sensing something she had never been able to put her finger on. “So what? We all make mistakes.”

Emma inhaled and exhaled deeply, petrified about what she was about to say, fearing that if she voiced it, it would come true. It had sat in the back of her mind since the moment they got together, yet she always tamped it down, ushered the thought away. But anchored by Regina’s hand stroking her fingers and the smell of her perfume in her nose, she tried, anyway.

“I…I’m afraid if I make another mistake, you will leave me.”

Squeezing the blonde’s hand, she leaned over and nuzzled Emma’s cheek with her own, soft words taking flight into Emma’s ear. “I told you. I am never leaving you.”

She could feel Emma nod. “Get in this bed and snuggle with me. I need you.”

“But your wound…”

“…is only on one side.” Emma patted the right side of the bed. “Please come up here and hold me.”

Regina kicked off her shoes and carefully curled herself around her love, who smelled like the sterile, antiseptic place she was in.

“This is the last threat. You can tell I’ve been hanging around Robert and Kathryn too much,” she giggled. “When we get married — and I _will_ marry you — you will stop taking stupid risks. You didn’t need to go after them. You have a wife. You have a son. You will think of us first.”

Emma brought Regina’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “I promise.”

They lay still, holding each other as best they could, relishing the contact, until Emma broke the silence. “Robert told me about the house.”

“A loss, but like I said that night, I’m not upset. Truly. My memories are with you and Henry. Home is with you and Henry, I don’t care where that is.

“Can I interest you in a tiny apartment in a converted warehouse until we find something? It’s got plenty of Ben & Jerry’s, NyQuil and bullets. Oh, and a thermometer. That's a new addition.”

“With all those amenities, how could I say no?” Emma’s heart warmed at the light, bright tone. Almost like everything was normal. “As long as you’re there, then yes.”

“Oh, wait.” Regina cautiously untangled herself and reached into her purse on the chair, long fingers hiding what she pulled out. “Pete and I went through the house when the salvage company was there. We were able to save much more than they initially thought. Anyway, I nearly tripped over this.”

In her outstretched hand was a small Matchbox Mustang, which had seen better days.

Emma Swan took the soot-covered toy in her hand, a new tear escaping down her cheek as she leaned in to kiss her love.

***

“Alright my love,” Regina smiled, about to state the words she’d been dying to utter for more than a week. “Let’s go home.”

Emma snorted. “Some ‘home.’” A pang of guilt shot into her chest, but she tried to fight it when she felt long fingers gently squeeze her hand. “Does it matter?”

She looked at Regina, brown eyes soft, wide, determined. She still felt incredibly weak yet looking at the adoring woman attached to her, suddenly Emma felt like she could bench-press a truck. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Mom. Mommommom! Let’s go!” Henry ran out from the bathroom and grabbed Emma’s free hand, tugging so hard she wobbled, luckily anchored by the brunette.

“Henry! Careful! Mom is still getting better.”

Emma’s heart clenched. Still. Every time. _Mom._

“Sorry, Mommy.” The women exchanged quizzical looks without a word, wondering where that name came from and for whom it was intended. _Mommy?_

“It’s OK, bud. I’m excited, too, just take it easy. My boo-boo still hurts, but I’ll be better soon.”

Emma felt Regina squeeze her hand once more. “Shall we?”

Secured on both sides with each Mills holding a hand, Emma exhaled. “Let’s go home.”

**The End**

 

**Thank you to everyone who enjoyed this story, especially those who were so generous in their reviews and private messages. I got to “meet” some wonderful people and it was lovely.**


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